


Guard my heart

by PLISA



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Bellarke, Bodyguard Bellamy Blake, Daddy Kink, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Mutual Pining, Possessive Bellamy Blake, Pregnancy Kink, Protective Bellamy Blake, Roommates, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PLISA/pseuds/PLISA
Summary: When her mother assigned her a new bodyguard, she wasn’t expecting him to be an uptight ass who didn’t even like her in the first place.But whatever. If he wasn’t willing to make their lives easier, she was going to give him plenty of reasons to really hate her.—Or, Bellamy is Clarke’s bodyguard. They can’t stand each other. And then they do.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 125
Kudos: 373





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo... I’m back 💙🤸
> 
> I hope you like this fic as much as I’m enjoying writing it! It’s certainly a lot of fun. Just a small disclaimer:
> 
> I always update all my fics every day, but my life is pretty crazy right now, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to write every single day. For that reason, I will be updating this story every other day, meaning: you get the first chapter today, no chapter tomorrow, the second chapter the day after tomorrow, and so on.
> 
> Hopefully I will finish it soon so I can start updating daily again! I will keep you posted ⭐️
> 
> In the meantime... Happy reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos are highly appreciated 💙

“You are kidding.”

She took all the inner strength she had and tried to swallow her retort and just do it, accept it and move on. But this was the final nail in the coffin. All that built up fury she had accumulated over the past few weeks came out faster than magma, and just as destructive. To say she was boiling with rage would’ve been the understatement of the century. 

“Clarke, please,” Abby Griffin looked defeated behind her glasses, shifting uncomfortably on her leather chair as she looked between her daughter and the man next to her, “You know why we have to do this.”

She gritted her teeth in an attempt to remain silent, or at least to keep the destructive words inside. If it wasn’t for Marcus, she would’ve caused one hell of a scene right there and then, not caring about who heard them behind the closed doors. 

“It doesn’t make any sense,” she opted for instead, her patience hanging by a thread. 

It really didn’t. Her mother had been a Senator for a few months now, and while the public opinion had been nothing but harsh on her, Clarke doubted people even knew she existed. She had never even mentioned her in the press, not even once. The daughter of a random politician didn’t usually spark any interest, but Abby seemed to think differently. 

“I’m afraid our decision is final,” her stare was firm on her, stern, but Clarke knew she was hating the confrontation as much as she was. 

“ _ Our _ ?”, she glanced over at Marcus, who instantly looked away.

“Clarke,” every word that was leaving her mouth only fuelled the fire that burned inside of her, “Please, you need to understand our position.”

“Your mother has been sent death threats even before she was elected,” Marcus stepped in finally, “We don’t want to risk anything happening to you.”

Abby’s eyes pierced on her daughter, “There are crazy people in this world, Clarke. I don’t want you to find out first-hand.”

She wanted to see the logic behind all of it — and she did, in a way. But she just couldn’t accept it, and she wouldn’t. Not in her last year of university. Not when this was her last chance to be a carefree adult with zero responsibilities, to have fun with her friends, to forget about her uptight and ridiculous life. 

Of course her mother had to get so seriously into politics in such a crucial year for her. Perhaps she was being selfish — her mother had worked extremely hard to get where she was, but still. This very last inconvenience hadn’t been in her plans at all, and she certainly didn’t want it to become a reality. 

“So that’s why I’m going to have a bodyguard attached to my hip all day every day?”

Abby and Marcus exchanged a knowing look, and she almost stood up and left. They couldn’t be serious. Being followed twenty four seven by some scary-looking man wasn’t her idea of an epic last year at university, and she wasn’t going to have it. 

“No,” she concluded, firmly. 

Abby swallowed, “This is not up for debate, Clarke.”

Fires of fury and hatred smouldered in her eyes as she locked them with her mother’s. Clarke weighed the pros and cons of simply making a scene, yelling at her and storm out of that stupid office. But before she could make up her mind, Marcus spoke again. 

“We are sure you will approve of Mr. Blake.”

“Oh, so he has a name already,” she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 

Marcus chose to ignore her for the sake of the conversation, “He is a discrete man, has trained with one of the best guards in the US secret service, and will merge well with your crowd.”

She arched a confused eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

Clarke heard the doors open behind her, then footsteps. She sat still on her seat, frozen, unable to move. It was all happening so fast. Not even five minutes ago she had learned that she would have to deal with a bodyguard for who knows how long, and now he was literally right there. Ready to start his job. Ready to cut her freedom in half and throw it out of the window. She suddenly felt dizzy. 

“Clarke,” Abby stood up clumsily, eyes fixed somewhere past her daughter’s shoulders, “We would like you to meet your new bodyguard, Mr. Blake.”

She was pretty sure he saw the shock register in her face before she could hide it. The man walked with confidence towards them, a stern expression in his face, and already in uniform. If it wasn’t for the obvious gun that he was hiding under his belt, she would’ve probably thought he was just one of her mother’s colleagues. 

She didn’t really know what she was expecting him to look like, but certainly not like this. Mr. Blake was tall, tanned skin, shoulders broad and arms bulky. She could easily see some freckles on his nose and under his eyes, and he looked...young. He certainly didn’t look like her mother’s bodyguards, who didn’t have a single hair on their heads that wasn’t grey. That was if they even had hair at all. 

“Mr. Blake, this is my daughter, Clarke Griffin,” she heard her mother say behind her. It took her brain a second to remember basic courtesy, but she quickly extended her hand. He shook it firmly, yet his touch was soft. She was pretty sure he could easily crush her fingers with minimal effort if he wanted to. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Griffin,” his voice was so deep it almost looked forced. 

He really was a whole package. His features, his body, his voice. Everything about him looked intimidating. 

“You will be starting right away,” Marcus informed him as he placed an amicable hand on his shoulder, “Come with me for a second, please.”

Clarke watched as the two men left her mother’s office just as quickly as Mr. Blake had come. So, this was real. This was definite and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. 

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” her mother’s voice startled her, “I know this isn’t ideal, but your wellbeing is my number one priority. I hope you understand.”

The worst thing was that she did. She did understand every decision her concerned mother was making for her, but she just couldn’t wrap her head around it. Clarke was used to freedom ever since she was a child, and now she was chained to some big, random guy. 

“Just one more thing,” the tone of her voice was a warning that she wasn’t going to like what she was about to hear. She braced herself, “Mr. Blake is set to live with you.”

Her heart jumped, “Absolutely not.”

“Clarke—”

“Mom, are you for real?”, she knew she was raising her voice, but she didn’t stop her anger from exploding, “Are you seriously making me live with a man I’ve known for three seconds? Are you  _ insane _ ?”

“We made sure your new apartment was big enough for this exact reason, Clarke,” Abby tried to explain herself rationally, “You will have two separate rooms and two separate bathrooms in a household that is big enough for you not to cross paths if you don’t want to. You already saw how spacious it is.”

She had moved into a new, high-security and extremely big apartment just a few days ago, simply because her mother and Marcus were insisting as if their lives depended on it. At first she didn’t know why they thought she needed such a ridiculous amount of space, but now the cat was out of the bag. They had been planning this for a long time. 

“It’s excessive, Mom,” she crossed her arms in front of her chest, trying to shield her from her words. From the stupid reality she was living in, “It’s already one of the safest buildings in Arkadia, in the safest part of town.”

“ _ Please _ , Clarke,” her voice hinted at a desperation that she hadn’t let show before, “Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

_ Right _ . She was the one making things difficult. She was the one making big decisions about her daughter’s life without her consent.  _ Right _ . 

However, she didn’t have time to talk back. Just as she parted her lips to spit venom at her mother, Marcus and Mr. Bodyguard walked back into the room. 

“All set,” Marcus sent Abby a small smile, then looked carefully at Clarke, almost as if he were afraid she would snap, “You will be leaving shortly with Mr. Blake. Please, help him settle down in your apartment. I’m sure you two will get along just fine.”

There was something about the tone of his voice that told her he wasn’t even believing his own words. But whatever. She glanced briefly at the two men in front of her, then at her mother. 

She forced a smile, pretended she wasn’t about to combust, “It’ll be a pleasure.”

* * *

Mr. Blake drove painfully slowly. 

Clarke gazed straight ahead, only half-aware of the world outside the claustrophobic comfort of his car, of his ridiculously large hands stroking the wheel, the almost soundless changing of the gears. She couldn’t wait to get home. 

Wait, no. He was going to be there too, so she guessed her only remaining happy place was ruined as well. Great. 

During the half hour that took them to reach her —  _ their _ — apartment, Mr. Blake didn’t say a word. She wasn’t complaining, though. The less they interacted, the more she could forget he was actually there, working. As her bodyguard.  _ Ridiculous _ . 

But she still thought it was a bit strange. Wasn’t he supposed to know things about her? Or had Marcus already given him all the information he needed? She didn’t know how all the bodyguard stuff worked, and frankly she was too pissed off to ask. 

Mr. Blake was only carrying a big suitcase. She almost asked him if he needed any help taking it to the elevator, but then she remembered he was triple her size, and mentally slapped herself. She blamed it on the silence — he had been so quiet she was longing for something to say. What was his deal, anyway?

“Your bedroom is right down the hall, on the left,” she told him as she opened the front door and let him in. 

“Thank you.”

It was the first thing he had said to her in over an hour. Hearing his voice still felt so weird, because it just didn’t sound real. He rolled his suitcase down the hall, and slowly opened the door to the empty bedroom that was now going to be his. Right in front of hers. Again, just great. 

She stood on the foyer awkwardly, unable to decide what to do. She was hungry, but would he want to eat dinner with her? Was that part of his job description? Did he even have any free time? She had so many questions, and he didn’t seem too keen on answering them for her. 

So she decided to head to her room and get changed into something more comfortable. This time, however, she decided to keep her bra on — it was definitely too soon not to. When she walked out into the hallway again, she noticed that his door was closed, so she kept walking. 

Her phone buzzed just as she walked into the kitchen. It was a text from her Mom. 

_ ‘I hope you’re okay, sweetheart. I know this is not ideal, but it’s for your own wellbeing. I hope you understand. If you need anything or want to go anywhere, ask Mr. Blake. He will have to be with you at all times until further notice. If you have any questions please ask me or Marcus. Love you’ _

Clarke really wanted not to be bothered by this. She understood where her Mom and Marcus were coming from, but… 

Deep down she knew that the best, most mature thing to do would be to at least be nice to him. This was his job after all, and he wasn’t the one making all the decisions for her. He was a pawn in this game, just like her. 

So she walked slowly down the hallway, stopping briefly in front of his closed door before knocking. He wouldn’t probably turn down lunch. But just as her fist was about to collide with the wooden surface, she heard his unmistakable deep voice. 

“I’m sorry, O,” she heard him say, “I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise.”

She knew she shouldn’t be snooping around, but his voice was drawing her in dangerously. 

“Nothing too bad so far. She’s just another presumptuous rich kid.”

_ Ouch _ .

“Octavia,” his voice was tired, pleading, and she wondered if this Octavia person was Mr. Blake’s girlfriend, “This isn’t my ideal job either, but it pays well. I know. I promise I’ll visit as soon as possible. Yes. Yes. Okay. Love you. Bye.”

She instantly took a step back and tried to hide the guilt in her face. So, he thought she was a presumptuous rich girl — he wouldn’t be the first, and certainly not her last. One simple look at her mother was enough to understand she certainly didn’t come from a modest background. And although she wanted to be nothing like Abby, she couldn’t help but think other people inevitably saw her as a copy-paste version of her. 

But him seeing her like that, not liking her behind her back hurt just a little bit. Why did she care so much? She had never wanted everyone to like her, so why did his opinion matter in any way? She mentally shook her head and walked back silently towards the kitchen. 

If he didn’t like her, fine. She was going to give him all the reasons to really hate her. 

“Hey.”

When he walked into the kitchen a little over an hour later, she had almost forgotten she no longer lived alone. 

“Hi,” she glanced at him by the corner of her eye, but had to do a double take. 

What was he...wearing?

Mr. Blake opened the fridge with such familiarity one would think he owned the place. While his eyes scanned the food inside, hers scanned him. A pair of dark sweatpants hung low on his hips, a matching black t-shirt clinging to every inch of his stupidly big arms. He was wearing grey socks, no shoes. He certainly didn’t look like a bodyguard — and also much younger. 

Then she wondered, how old was he really?

She cleared her voice, “I made some pasta earlier,” she told him, heart racing for some reason, “You can have some if you want to.”

“It’s okay, thank you,” he simply said, not even bothering to turn around to look at her. 

Well then. 

Mr. Blake was weird. She knew what he thought of her now, but she kind of expected him to be less...open about it. But again, she was pretty sure being friendly with her wasn’t in his contract. 

He ended up taking some strawberries from the fridge, “I’ll be in my room,” he said, hurriedly, “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Wait!,” she couldn’t stop herself before the words left her mouth, and she mentally cursed. 

He was staring at her now, probably for the first time since they met a few hours ago at her mother’s office, and she couldn’t read him. He was a closed book. So closed she didn’t even know his name. 

“I, um,” she stuttered. His eyes on her were making her palms sweaty, “What’s your name?”

Mr. Blake was looking at her as if she had just asked him what the universe was made of, a question he didn’t know the answer to. His puzzled eyes were piercing into hers so intensely she almost felt bad for asking. 

“Mr. Blake is fine.”

In that moment, she felt a fire inside similar to the one her mother had sparkled earlier. 

“No.”

He frowned, “I’m sorry, Ms. Griffin?”

“Don’t Ms. Griffin me,” she could tell he was taken aback by her attitude, but she didn’t back away, “My name is Clarke, you know that.”

“And I also know that you are my client, and that I should address you properly,” he said carefully. 

“Did my Mom tell you that?”

“It was implicit in the contract.”

“Well, to hell with the contract,” she was starting to get agitated, “I… I can’t live like this. I can’t live with a man I don’t even know the name of. This whole situation was shocking enough. I think the least you could do is tell me your name.”

“I don’t think that would be professional—”

“I decide what’s professional,” she cut him, “I’m your client.”

Mr. Blake stood in the middle of the kitchen, silent, and visibly startled.  _ Good _ . She wasn’t the bratty, spoiled girl he thought she was. This situation was too much for her, and if he wasn’t willing to make things easier then… Well. He didn’t want to know. 

“I know you need the job,” as the words left her mouth, they felt like poison. The man stiffened in front of her, “So you are going to call me in whichever way I want to be called. Understood?” 

She loathed this side of her. The authority, the seriousness, the warnings, it reminded her of Abby too much. But she knew she already wouldn’t last another day in that situation. She needed him to understand. 

“Okay,” he nodded, slowly.

“What’s your name?”

“Clarke—”

She shivered at the way her name left his lips, at the way it sounded when he said it in such a deep, captivating voice. She shook her head. 

“Fine,” he sighed, “Bellamy. My name is Bellamy Blake.”

She didn’t know what name was expecting, but certainly not Bellamy. She didn’t think she had ever heard that name before. It suited him perfectly, for some odd reason. 

“Thank you,” she nodded, visibly more calm, “I’ll call you if I need anything.” 

“Okay,” he nodded as well, “Have a nice evening.”

“You too.”

His stare lingered on her for longer than necessary, probably, but she didn’t let it get too much in her head. She already knew what he thought of her, no need to wonder any longer. 

When she heard his bedroom door close, he hurried towards her phone and shamelessly googled his name. If he was going to live with her for who knows how long, she needed to gather as much information about this man as she could. 

But nothing came up. There were other Bellamy Blakes, but none of their profiles or descriptions seemed to resonate. No social media, no LinkedIn, no references, no nothing. 

_ Weird _ . 

Clarke put her phone back down and stared right ahead through the big window in the living room. A few dark clouds were hovering in the distance, a warning of the wild weather that was to come. 

She couldn’t help but think the storm had already reached her. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading! 💙

“Who's the big guy over there?”

Clarke fought the creeping blush on her cheeks by adjusting her heavy bag over her shoulder. Why was she blushing for, anyway?  _ Get a fucking grip. _ When her inner commotion calmed down one second later, she sent Raven a warning look that she conveniently ignored. 

“Well,” she started, bracing herself for her friends’ reactions, “My mother has officially lost it. So guys, um, that man over there is my bodyguard. His name is Bellamy Blake.”

Wells' eyes widened, “She actually went that far?” 

She rolled her eyes, more at the situation than at him, “As if that was actually shocking.”

“I must say,” Raven looked at Mr. Blake —  _ Bellamy _ — over Clarke’s shoulder, “Having a bodyguard sounds pretty dope.”

“Are you kidding me?”, she frowned, raising her voice a little, but not enough for him to hear her, “Having a man following you everywhere is everything but dope. And oh, did I mention he also  _ lives _ with me?”

Raven suppressed a laugh, but Wells actually looked as if he truly felt bad for her, “I’m sorry to hear that, Clarke,” he gave her an apologetic look, “I’m sure you’ll get used to it soon.”

“In the meantime,” Raven smirked, “Why don’t you introduce us to Mr. Big Guy?”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. With a discrete head gesture, she silently asked Bellamy to walk over to them. He had exchanged his usual black suit for something more casual — jeans and some old brown jacket. He would’ve certainly raised some eyebrows if he had walked in his Black Men outfit across campus. But looking at him, no one would suspect a thing. He essentially looked like a student. 

“Hello,” he greeted them politely once he reached Clarke’s side. 

Raven looked at him up and down shamelessly, “You don’t look like a bodyguard.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow, “He’s carrying two guns as we speak.”

“ _ Shit _ .”

Wells extended his hand to him, “It’s very nice to meet you, Bellamy,” he said equally as politely, his father’s essence shining easily through him. 

Bellamy’s grip on the boy’s hand was firm, eyes scanning him attentively, “Likewise.”

“My name is Wells,” he gave him a small smile, “And this is Raven.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she waved a hand in front of her nonchalantly, “So, where exactly are those guns Clarke is talking about?”, the brown-haired girl asked impatiently, crossing her arms in front of her. 

Bellamy smirked, “It wouldn’t be fun if I told you.”

Clarke was sure her heart had just stopped. Why the hell was Bellamy being playful? He was actually capable of being teasing, lighthearted? She frowned at him, a silent question in her stare, but he wasn’t looking at her. 

“Touché,” Raven smirked right back. 

“Okay, um,” Clarke said awkwardly, turning her body towards Bellamy. He finally looked down at her. When they stood in such close proximity, it was easy to see how much bigger he was. He could probably take three guys the size of Wells at the same time, she thought. And do it effortlessly, “I have to go to class.”

“Alright.”

But he didn’t move. 

“Are you… Where are you going to go in the meantime, then?”

Bellamy raised a confused eyebrow, “I’m going with you.”

Her pulse accelerated, “To  _ class _ ?”

He nodded, and she immediately felt Raven’s chuckle beside them, “This is about to get so much more interesting.”

Clarke ignored her, turning her attention back to him, “You can’t go to my classes. You’re not a student here,” she said matter-of-factly. This was getting ridiculous. 

“Your mother managed to pull some strings,” he explained, making her roll her eyes. Because of course she would. 

“ _ God _ ,” she muttered under her breath, but she knew she couldn’t really say no. Bellamy would follow her nonetheless. 

She said goodbye to Wells and Raven before strolling down the Humanities building’s main hall, Bellamy trailing closely behind her. Without meaning to, anger started building up in her chest again, waiting to explode. 

This had to be the last straw. Her mother couldn’t be serious. Not only was she going to see him at home, but now also in class? She was on her way to becoming completely and utterly insane. Hand shaking with anger, she reached for her phone inside her bag. It didn’t matter if her mother didn’t want to hear her complain — she was going to. 

But she couldn’t find that stupid little device. She peeked inside the dark interior of her bag as she kept walking, mentally wishing that her eyes had some kind of flashlight feature to them, when she suddenly hit something. 

Or someone. 

“Shit, sorry—” 

“Clarke,” before she knew it, Bellamy’s hand was on her arm, pulling her back towards him. 

“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” a voice in front of her said. She swallowed, recognising it all too well. 

“Finn.”

“Princess,” he smirked. Then he looked over her shoulder, his smug expression quickly turning into a confused one. 

“Who’s this?”, Bellamy frowned. 

“He’s just a friend,” she hurried to say, suddenly aware of Bellamy’s hand still holding onto her arm. His grip didn’t relax at her words. If only, it got stronger. 

“Got a bit overprotective there,” Finn half-chuckled, “Don’t worry, man. I won’t steal your girl. For now.”

Clarke sent him a warning look, “Finn.”

“It’s all well. See you guys,” he winked at her before walking away back into the crowd. 

Only when he was out of sight did Bellamy’s hand leave her arm. She carefully touched the spot of her skin he had been holding onto, “Being a bit more gentle next time won’t kill you, you know?”

His eyes widened slightly, “Sorry,” he lowered his voice, bodyguard mode back on, “Who was that?”

“Seriously? You’re going to keep tabs on Finn Collins?”

“Finn Collins. Got it.”

“Bellamy!”

He looked at her as if she was dense, momentarily making her self-conscious, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed that my job is to keep you safe. Anybody is a potential threat.”

She crossed her arms defensively, “Finn is literally harmless.”

“Clarke. Let me do my job.”

The tone of his voice made her stiffen. It was easy to forget he was actually working when he looked like every other guy around them. But he had never sounded so harsh on her, and it took her by surprise. She didn’t think that’s how he should be talking to his clients, but again, their relationship had never felt like that. Her mother felt more like his client — she was merely a pawn in the game. 

So she decided to ignore him as she made her way towards Room 54, where Diyoza would be waiting for them with two uninteresting hours of World History. She mentally cursed for having chosen this subject. The woman never shut up about wars and whatnot, and it had little to do with her Art degree. But whatever. She figured it would be an easy enough class to pass. 

She sat down at the back of the room, and Bellamy sat besides her. It was awkward, to say the least. He wasn’t even wearing a backpack, no laptop, no notebook, nothing. He simply sat there, probably keeping an eye on everyone around them, and it was driving her insane. 

Diyoza came in a few minutes later and started her lecture right away. Clarke didn’t think she would even notice Bellamy — the class was  _ packed _ . Her mother had it all figured out, anyway. She just had to sit back and try to relax. 

Half an hour must have passed when she turned her head slightly to look at Bellamy. He was actually paying attention, concentrating on what Diyoza had to say, and he looked more like a student than half of the people in that hall. She smirked.  _ Nerd _ . 

“And that’s why powerful leading positions should be left to women,” Diyoza joked, showing Leopold II of Belgium in her last slide, “Which, speaking of, who was the world's first female prime minister?”

The room fell silent around her. Clarke  _ had _ to know this. She had read countless essays about women in politics, how could she have forgotten about this?

“Sirimavo Bandaranaike.”

She thought she had imagined it at first, but his deep, strong voice was unmistakable. Bellamy had really answered Diyoza’s question just like that, in a class he wasn’t truly part of. At a university he wasn’t even enrolled in. 

“Correct,” Diyoza’s eyes widened in surprise, “What’s your name?”

“Blake.”

“Mr. Blake,” she adjusted her glasses over her nose, “Do you happen to know what country she became prime minister of?”

He didn’t hesitate, “Sri Lanka.”

“Well done, Mr. Blake. I see you’ve been studying,” Clarke averted a discrete smile on her lips, “The rest of you should do the same.”

To say she felt astonished would be an understatement — a bit starstruck too. Since when was Bellamy a history nerd? But again, she literally knew nothing about him, so perhaps he had three degrees and two masters for all she knew. 

When Diyoza dismissed them, she didn’t bother to wait until they were outside. She turned in her seat, “How did you know that?”

Bellamy looked at her skeptically, “Documentaries.”

Her eyes sparkled, “Do you like watching them?”

“I like a lot of things.”

She almost groaned. Was he serious? It was just a simple question, and he couldn’t even answer that. Was this something personal? Or was he in his in-the-job mood? She was just trying to transition smoothly into the shitshow her life had turned in — he didn’t need to be a fucking dick about it. 

“Alright,” she closed her laptop abruptly, visibly pissed off, and shot up from her seat. Bellamy stood up right away, ready to follow her. 

She knew she had a reason to feel this way. She did, but no one would listen. Not her Mom, not Marcus, not him. She could explain herself all damn day and they still wouldn’t get it. Her face became rigid, jaw clamped tight, teeth grinding. She knew it was time to get out of there before she could do something she would then regret.

She walked out of the classroom, of the building. Seeing her like this was probably a victory for him already. Why did he care, anyway? She was just an uptight, rich girl who needed some protecting. And he had been unlucky enough to be assigned to her. 

Whatever. She had more important things to worry about, like the countless papers she already had to write in the dangerous span of one week. He opened the car just as her hand went for the door handle, and she impatiently got inside. 

They didn’t say two words to each other on their way back home, and Clarke locked herself into her room the moment he opened the front door. She didn’t want to see him, talk to him, but she knew someone else was  _ totally _ going to hear from her. 

“Clarke,” Abby Griffin’s surprised voice rang in her ear through the phone, “Is everything alright, dear?”

“Actually, it isn’t,” she felt a too familiar rage creep up her chest, “I can’t do this anymore, Mom. Did you seriously make him come to class  _ with me _ ?”

She heard her sigh from the other line, and she almost felt bad for pushing it. Almost, “We’ve talked about this, Clarke,” she heard a crowd of voices behind her, “Mr. Blake has been assigned to you for protection reasons, and that’s final.”

“I understand,” she really did, “I just think it’s getting too excessive.”

She recognised Marcus’ voice behind her mother, but she couldn’t make out his words, “Again, Clarke, we’ve talked about this.”

Now she was the one sighing, “I just,” she debated whether to say it or just shut up, “He’s not… he’s not the nicest man I’ve ever met, that’s all.”

She could almost hear her mother’s concern, “What do you mean?”

“He’s not very friendly, for once. To be honest, I don’t think he likes me very much,” she wasn’t going to tell her what she had overheard, but still. She needed to know. 

“He’s just doing his job,” Abby explained carefully, “He doesn’t have to be  _ friendly _ . Just professional.”

“But we live together, Mom,” she was starting to feel desperate, “Being friendly would make things easier for me.”

Muffled voices overshadowed Abby’s, “Clarke, I have to go,” she said after a few seconds. She sounded in a rush, just like always, “Mr. Blake is one of the best agents we could find, so please have a little patience with him. I’m sure this is an adjustment for him, too.”

She frowned, “I’m not the one making things difficult,” she pointed out, “What do you suggest I do, then? Bake him a cake or something?”, she half-chuckled. 

“Good idea, sweetie,” Abby answered, clearly not catching the irony in her daughter’s voice, “I have to go, okay? Call me later. Love you.”

And she hung up.  _ Great _ .

She fidgeted with her phone between her fingers as she decided what her next move would be. She hadn’t been serious at all about the cake thing, but the more she thought about it, the more appealing the idea sounded. She made up her mind when she heard her stomach groan. 

Grabbing a jacket and her wallet from her nightstand, she wondered if she would have to ask Bellamy to come with her. It sounded ridiculous, given that there was a corner shop just across the street, in the safest neighbourhood in Arkadia. Not to mention that it was midday, and the sun was shining outside. 

So, probably against her better judgment, she slipped into her sneakers, grabbed her keys, and closed the front door softly behind her. 

Being alone felt...weird. Which was even weirder, since she had just been introduced to this new lifestyle barely a day ago. But it had felt like a whole lifetime already. She realised that she had never fully appreciated her freedom until then, which probably had a lesson in there or something. Whatever. She was done thinking about it, and him — triple chocolate cake was the only thing in her mind as she strolled down the aisles of the small shop. 

It couldn’t have taken her more than ten minutes, as the shop was deserted and it was, quite literally, in front of her building. And yet she wasn’t prepared for what was waiting for her back at the apartment. 

“Where were you?”, his tone was flat, cold, which startled her more than it would’ve if he had screamed at her. 

She closed the door behind her slowly, raising the shopping bag up in his direction as proof, “I wanted to bake a cake.”

It was easy to see that he was fighting against the urge to yell at her. He was pissed off, “You should’ve told me,” he said, voice accusatory, “You know how this works, Clarke. If you want to go anywhere, I have to go with you.”

She almost rolled her eyes. He couldn’t be serious, “The shop is literally across the street, and it’s 1 pm.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, I don’t care, either,” she took off her sneakers and walked towards the kitchen, “Nothing’s going to happen to me during a two-second trip.”

She could feel his burning eyes on her as she put the ingredients away in the cabinets, but she didn’t turn around. She wasn’t ready to face his rage, his disappointment, for whatever reason. 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” when he spoke again, his voice had a dark undertone to it that she had never heard before, “But I’m working here. This is how I make my living. You sneaking out and jeopardising my position isn’t making things easy at all.”

All the anger she had directed to her mother earlier flooded back in, targeting him this time, “It’s funny that you want to talk about not making things easy,” she talked back, “You’re the one in this stupid dynamic who’s being a total dick.”

He half chuckled, “A dick?”

“Yes, a dick. What the hell is your deal, anyway?”, she crossed her arms, “Didn’t anyone tell you about not to hate your clients so openly?”

His eyes widened slightly, “I don’t hate you.”

She was the one chuckling now, “Right,” she shook her head, “I don’t think that’s what you were telling your girlfriend yesterday.”

He frowned, and for a second she almost bought his confusion, “Girlfriend?”

“Yes,” did he seriously think she was dumb?, “Some Octavia.”

He laughed. He straight-up laughed at her face, and it made her stomach drop. 

“Octavia is my sister.”

Well. Perhaps she was a bit dumb after all. 

She mentally shook her head, “Doesn’t matter. It’s pretty clear what your opinion about me is.”

“And that is…”

“That I’m an uptight, spoiled brat.”

Bellamy bit his tongue. He wasn’t going to give in, not when she could quite literally cost him his job. He knew he should’ve been more careful, watch his words. But he couldn’t take it any longer. Working for the kind of people he grew up hating was one thing, but being forced to  _ live _ with them, be part of their sphere was another. A few spiteful words said at the wrong moment couldn’t cost him his whole career. 

“I’m sorry,” he opted for. He had never been one to lie, anyways. And perhaps he was a bit sorry, “This change hasn’t been easy for me, either.”

He swore her eyes softened at his words, “We should probably try to at least tolerate each other,” she said, and in his mind he knew it made sense. But every time he remembered where he lived, who he worked for, his judgment clouded. 

“Alright,” he decided to swallow his pride for his own good, “But tell me next time you want to go anywhere, please. It is literally my job.”

She scanned his face carefully. It was clear as day that his opinion on her hadn’t changed a bit. All that talk had been to keep his job, and nothing to actually try to improve their situation. Which, fair enough. 

But if he was going to give her hell, so was she. 

“Actually,” she tried to hide the mischievous smile that was forming on her lips, “There’s somewhere I want to go tomorrow.”

He arched a questioning eyebrow, not really sure if he wanted to know. Ever since he first laid eyes on her, he felt something weird. An intuition, maybe. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it yet, couldn’t understand if it was good or bad. He braced himself in anticipation. 

“Where?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really loved writing this chapter! And what’s coming is just... well. I won’t spoil anything for you 👀
> 
> Happy reading! 💙

“I don’t think partying with you was in my job description.”

Bellamy scanned the crowded room around him, watching out for potential threats and realising that, in fact, anyone in such a state would be a threat to her. The bass thumped in time with his heart beat as though they were one, filling him from head to toe with music. He liked this song. Perhaps if he were twenty one and careless again, he would’ve joined the party. 

But not that night. 

Pike’s strict training hadn’t allowed him to go clubbing much, not that he really missed it. Going to the bar with his friends on a chill Friday evening, maybe. But certainly not  _ this _ . Not obnoxious frat parties. He didn’t even understand why Clarke had insisted on coming in the first place — these people looked like the last kind of people she’d hang out with. But again, not that he knew her that well. Or at all. 

“Stop complaining and take a shot with me,” she told him over the loud music.

Yeah, right. She had to be kidding, “I’m working.”

She rolled her eyes just as she spotted someone she apparently knew. She waved at them, and he made a mental note of their overall physical appearance just in case he would need it later. His gun was burning in his belt, but he hoped not to use it that night. Or ever, really. 

“Fine,” she said, taking a small red drink from the counter, “I’ll take yours,” she smirked before swallowing the liquid. She made a face after that, which almost made him laugh. Almost. 

“Look who decided to join us tonight!”

Clarke looked back in time to see Raven flashing a wide smile at Bellamy, Wells, Monty and Jasper trailing behind her. 

“Hey, man. Nice to see you again,” Wells smiled at him. The faint glimpse in his eyes told her he had had a couple of drinks already. 

Bellamy nodded, but was immediately interrupted by Jasper’s voice, “Who are you?”, he looked at Bellamy up and down with a frown.

Clarke hurried to his side, “He’s a friend,” she opted for. The less people knew about his real identity, the better. And plus, knowing Jasper and his current (and usual) state, he was better off unaware. 

“Oooh, a friend. I see,” he wiggled his eyebrows at her as if he had read between the lines, “I’m Jasper, by the way. And this is my friend and platonic husband, Monty.”

Bellamy looked at him, amused, “How platonic, really?”

“Sadly, very,” Jasper smirked, “Women are a blessing and a curse, am I right? Do you know how easy it would be to just marry your best friend? I guess we could do that, but we aren’t really—”

“You’re rambling,” Raven interrupted him, clearly too tired to hear the same speech once again. 

Monty sent Bellamy an apologetic smile, “He’s kind of stoned.”

“I can see that,” the man smirked, “Well, we can’t choose who we love, right?”

“Absolutely, man,” Jasper sighed, “I love you, Monty. But not enough to fu—”

“That’s enough,” Clarke interrupted him, a nervous smile escaping her lips, “We get it, Jasper.”

“So,” Raven looked between them, gladly changing topics. She sent them a knowing look, “How’s this whole thing going?”

“As good as it gets,” she brushed it off quickly, not really in the mood to talk about him when he was quite literally attached to her hip. She looked up at him, “I’m going to grab another drink. It’ll just be a second.”

He nodded approvingly, probably because the bar was just a few metres away, “Okay.”

Clarke sighed, and immediately left his side. She couldn’t believe the relief she was feeling, the freedom. It was overwhelmingly good not to be attached to his damn side, even if it was only for a couple of minutes. And perhaps she lingered at the makeshift bar for longer than she should have, but who cared at that point. 

Certainly not her. 

When she considered she had lingered for an acceptable amount of time, she made her way back to him. It was stupid, really. None of those people knew who her mother was, and even if they did, surely they were too drunk to even remember their own names, let alone who she was. Her Mom had overreacted about that whole thing, and so had Marcus, and now Bellamy too. Ridiculous. 

However, when she got close enough to make out Bellamy’s features, she saw something she would’ve never expected in a million years. He was...laughing?

“Um, I’m back,” she said awkwardly as she shoved herself between him and Raven. 

But Bellamy didn’t acknowledge her. He was listening attentively at something Raven had to say, something that was apparently so damn funny he couldn’t even check on her to see if she was still in one piece. So much for a damn bodyguard. 

He laughed again, and she thought it was getting weird. Bellamy had never even sent a small smile her way, and now he was full on laughing at something that she bet wasn’t even that hilarious. 

She cleared her throat, hoping to finally get noticed, “What are you guys laughing about?”, she decided to jump into the conversation as casually as she could. 

“I was telling Bellamy about that time Sinclair called the gravitational spot the ‘G-spot’ for a whole class,” Raven half-chuckled, “I know, I know. Very mature humor, whatever. It was funny because he was just so serious about it.”

Clarke realised she should probably be smiling, so she did, “That’s hilarious.”

“Right?”, Raven laughed again, probably not picking up that she, in fact, didn’t find it that funny. She was quick to turn her attention back at Bellamy, who seemed to be enjoying her company a bit too much. 

What was this guy’s deal? First, he had gone off at her for making a two-second trip to the store next door, and now he seemed to have forgotten she was there at all. So much for being at work. 

_ At work my ass _ . 

She was getting pissed off, and she didn’t know why. She had practically begged him to ignore her, and now he was finally doing just that. So why did she want his attention back?

Whatever. She didn’t. She wanted to take more shots, that’s what she wanted. 

Given that Bellamy’s focus was definitely not on her, she took the chance and silently dived into the crowd around them. She let herself be pushed by drunk strangers until she was sure she was no longer in his sight. Then, she could finally relax. 

The music was as loud as thunder. Neon lights flashed everywhere like police sirens, but much more colourful. Over the roar of music, a distant, hazy chatter could be heard. She couldn’t make out any words, but laughter rang in her ears and the sound wouldn’t seem to stop. The song that was playing got louder, pulling her in and not letting go. She had no choice but to join the crowd, jumping in a huddled group of people she didn’t really know. But who cared. 

In the group around her, she spotted McCreary. They couldn’t have exchanged more than two words to each other, but that night there was something in her that was pulling her in. The alcohol, probably. His eyes were on her, too, and she thought that she had nothing to lose. 

Nobody was looking for her. Monty was somewhere keeping an eye on Jasper, Wells was probably either on his way back home already or passed out on some couch, and Raven… Well. She knew where Raven was, and she was busy. 

The alcohol was making her confused, and so were the lights, the noise, the people. She would probably regret it in the morning, but right now there was nothing else she wanted to do more than this. So she walked towards him. 

McCreary moved closer to her, resting both of his hands on her hips as they moved in sync to whichever song was playing. She wrapped both her arms around his neck, securing herself there. The next thing she knew, he had slammed his lips to hers and nearly knocked all wind from her lungs. 

Clarke hardly had a moment to react before he pressed his tongue to the seam of her lips and delved inside her mouth. It was a very sloppy kiss with the strong scent of booze being exchanged in the intermingling of their billowing breaths, but it was hot, and it was exactly what she needed. What she needed to forget him. 

Unexpectedly, his hand drifted to her lower back. It settled there and pulled her closer. She inhaled sharply against his hard chest. She splayed her hand against it, intending to push him away, but he didn’t move. Panic clinged to her heart momentarily. He wouldn’t do anything to her in public just like that...would he? But then his hand moved lower down her back until it was resting over her ass. He squeezed her there. 

She felt overwhelmed all of a sudden, and she wanted to cry. She should have never left Bellamy’s side. It had been stupid, reckless, and now McCreary was all up in her because of it. His touch was rough, urgent, and in that moment she couldn’t remember why she had wanted to kiss him so badly in the first place. She felt nothing but pure disgust against his mouth, his body. 

Suddenly, her body felt cold and it took her a second to realise that McCreary was no longer kissing and grabbing her. She frowned, confused, until her eyes adjusted back to the neon lights of the party and saw Bellamy’s furious stare. His strong hand was grabbing McCreary by the collar of his shirt, and he was shouting something at his face she couldn’t make out. 

She took a step back, and looked around. No one seemed to be aware of the commotion. Bellamy finally released him from his grip, and the man sent a dirty look her way before disappearing into the crowd. 

“You’re coming with me,” Bellamy muttered into her ear. This time, she didn’t dare to disobey. 

She followed him upstairs. She didn’t know where he was going, but she followed him. Nothing bad ever happened to her when Bellamy was around — the one second she had decided to sneak out, someone had shoved their tongue down her throat. It wouldn’t have been too bad if at least she had enjoyed it, but she’d had no such luck. 

Bellamy pulled her into one of the empty bedrooms, a place they probably shouldn’t be in, but she wasn’t going to complain. 

“What the hell were you doing?”, he closed the door behind him, and she suddenly felt small under his gaze, “You know I have to be at your side all times, Clarke. Those were your mother’s orders. Are you seriously trying to get me fired?”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, trying to shield herself from his words, “I’m not the one who’s distracted at the workplace.”

He arched a questioning eyebrow, “What’s all this about?”

“Seriously?,” she huffed, “You’ve been talking to Raven all night and forgetting that I was even there. Do you remember why we came to this party in the first place?”

“Right. I might have been talking to Raven, but I was aware of your position at all times.”

“Oh, is that why I managed to sneak out and go make out with some...some dude?”

He let out a dry chuckle, “It’s cute that you think I wasn’t watching you the whole time.”

She swallowed, more in embarrassment than anything, “You weren’t.”

“I was,” he got one step closer to her, “I was watching while you kissed that asswhipe of a dude, and I was watching when he almost got you naked right there and then.”

“I don’t think stopping me from making out with whoever I choose to is on your job description.”

Bellamy looked visibly taken aback. He scanned her face carefully. She couldn’t be serious, “Look at me and tell me that you weren’t uncomfortable. Because I’ve seen way too many girls being treated like that. I know what it looks like,” there was a raw anger in his voice, “But go ahead. Tell me.”

She couldn’t. She couldn’t tell him that she had never felt so scared in her life, that she had never been touched in such a disgusting, nerve-wracking way. The moment Bellamy pulled McCreary away from her, she started breathing again. 

Clarke shook her head slowly, feeling defeated, “I can’t,” she said sincerely, “I’m sorry. I just… I just thought you were ignoring me and—”

“You put your life on the line just because you thought I was ignoring you?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” she rolled her eyes, “McCreary wasn’t going to do anything to me.”

“McCreary. Okay, noted.”

“Whatever, Bellamy,” she was done having that conversation. 

She was going to wait until the morning, call her mother, and ask her to assign her a new bodyguard. She would say yes to that, wouldn’t she? She would have a bodyguard nonetheless, and that was apparently the intended goal. That bodyguard not being Bellamy was enough of a good idea. 

Just as she was about to open the door of the bedroom of whosoever house they happened to be in and leave, a firm hand stopped her. 

“Let’s talk for a second.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Clarke—”

“Clarke nothing,” she yanked her hand away from his grip, “You don’t like me? You’d rather be flirting with my friend than doing your fucking job and then get mad at me because I don’t let you do your job? Fine. I’ll give you a reason not to like me. I’ll give you plenty, in fact.”

She turned away again, but just as she was about to walk out of the door, his big hand slammed it shut and spun her around until her back was pressed against the cold wood. His arms were on both sides of her head, trapping her in. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, so close to her she could even smell the detergent on his clothes. They smelled like hers. 

“You seem to think that I will not get angry at you because your mother is my boss, but I am this close to chaining you to this very wall and leaving you here.”

Clarke drew in a breath. This couldn’t be happening. Those words hadn’t just left his mouth. There was no way. 

“W-What?”, she was pretty sure her voice had cracked into a million pieces. 

When he spoke again, his voice was deep and low, and she felt her knees give out to its sound, “Am I making myself clear, Princess?”

_ Fuck.  _

Her eyes shifted briefly from his eyes to his lips, then back up quickly. She couldn’t believe she had just done that. What the hell was her deal? In her defence, she hadn’t been expecting to be trapped between a closed door and her very hot and intimidating bodyguard, who on top of that had just called her Princess. She always despised it when Finn said it, but the way the word rolled off Bellamy’s lips was different. 

Wait. 

Hot and intimidating? Was she drunk?

Just a bit.

But she knew those intrusive thoughts weren’t new, and that scared her the most. 

She swallowed again, “I understand.”

The fire in her had completely extinguished, and a new kind of feeling had taken over. She didn’t want to think about the way Bellamy was simply...huge. She had never been attracted to big guys like that, but there was something magnetic about him. And it was driving her insane. 

Bellamy pulled away abruptly, and took a step back. It was his silent way of telling her she was free to go, and that he would follow. And so she did. 

She didn’t want to be there anymore. The music, the lights, the alcohol. Everything felt unappealing now, and she just wanted to go home. She didn’t even take the time to say goodbye to her friends — the moment she laid eyes on the front door, there was no stopping her. 

Neither of them said anything on the drive back to their apartment. She didn’t know what was going through his head, but she could see clearly as day what went through hers, and she wished she could just switch everything off. She couldn’t let him distract her from the fact that she didn’t like him. But one look at his ridiculously large hands on the wheel was enough to make her curse under her breath. 

This had to be a joke. She couldn’t seriously find him attractive. Of all people, it had to be the one she wanted to get rid of. 

Bellamy didn’t bother to make small talk as they rode the elevator up to Clarke’s floor. There was nothing to talk about. She was very aware of his opinion about her, and he would be immensely lucky if he wasn’t fired the following morning. 

The way he had pushed her against that door…he should have held himself back. Clarke wasn’t one of those slanky dudes he needed to scare away. She was his  _ client _ , for fucks sake. He was done for, he knew that. 

“Bellamy.”

Her voice was so weak he thought he had imagined it at first. But he hadn’t. 

In the dim light of the hallway, Clarke stood awkwardly and visibly tired, looking right at him. Her hair was messy, her mascara smudged, and for a second he almost wanted to just carry her to her bedroom (or his, for that matter) and tuck her into bed. 

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

He blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. 

Clarke continued, “I’m sorry for making your job more difficult. I’m…,” she was clearly struggling to let the words out, but he was patient, “I’ve been selfish. I always thought about how I didn’t want to be in this position when I should’ve thought about you, too. So I’m sorry for that.”

He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find his voice.

“I’m sorry I got angry when you were talking to Raven. That was childish and I shouldn’t have sneaked out like that, even if you were watching me. It was stupid. And scary, too. Sorry.”

His heartbeat picked up, palms getting sweaty, “Did he do anything to you?”

Clarke shook her head, “Nothing other than what you saw, no.”

He visibly relaxed. If he had even  _ tried _ to… he would kill him with his own, bare hands, “Good,” he opted for. 

A heartbeat of silence. Two, then three. 

“So, um. Yeah, I just wanted to tell you that,” she chewed on her bottom lip nervously, and he had to look away. 

“It’s alright,” he said truthfully. This war between them would go too far if they didn’t stop now, he knew that. And there was nothing they could do about it. She needed a bodyguard, and he needed a job. The equation was simple, yet so difficult. 

“I...,” she cleared her throat, “I was hoping we could start again.”

He didn’t hesitate. Deep down, he wanted it too, “Sounds good.”

“Alright. Well,” she looked around awkwardly, clearly waiting to end the conversation, “Have a good night.”

“You, too.”

He didn’t peel his eyes off her as she made her way down the hall and into her bedroom. Her skirt hung low on her hips as she walked, her legs long and so damn pale he didn’t think such a tone could be real. It contrasted so well with his tanned skin. If she were to bruise, if anyone were to leave a mark on her, it would show so clearly. 

_ No _ . 

He was just tired. He didn’t really think any of those things. His brain wasn’t working properly. Now it certainly wasn’t the time to recall how pretty her mouth had looked when he had pushed her up against that door. Lips some fucking jerk had touched, bit, tasted, not even an hour ago. He wanted to punch a wall for it. How did anyone dare touch her when he was around? 

He really needed to stop. 

This wasn’t okay, nor was it helping his situation at all. 

But just as she closed her bedroom door softly, leaving him alone in the darkness of the hallway, he knew. 

This girl was going to be the fucking end of him. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s some Bellarke action in this chapter 👀 
> 
> I’ve also decided to give the Twitter thing a go, so follow me @PLISAwrites for updates, polls, behind the scenes and whatnot 💙
> 
> Happy reading!

Four weeks later, Clarke was surprisingly not done with life. 

Her relationship with Bellamy had improved considerably, and although they were nowhere near the close friends mark, at least they now managed to tolerate one another. 

Ever since the incident with McCreary, Clarke started to appreciate having him by her side. The way he had sensed her discomfort and reacted so quickly had woken something up in her. That was something not many bodyguards would have done, she thought. Making out with someone was generally not a sign of danger, but he had seen right through the facade. 

She was safe with Bellamy. 

When he walked into the kitchen after his daily afternoon session at the building’s gym, he wasn’t expecting to see her splurged out on the floor, every single cabinet open, all kinds of food around her small form. He couldn’t help but smile. 

“What are you looking for?”

“Jeez!”, she jumped, and put her hand on her heart, “You scared me.”

He smirked, “Well, I live here.”

“Wouldn’t you think I’d get used to it by now?”, she half-chuckled, and immediately went back to whatever she was doing. 

He kneeled down next to her, “What are you doing?”, he asked again. 

“I’m looking for sugar,” she said without taking her head out of the almost empty cabinet, “And flour. And eggs.”

“We ran out of eggs two days ago.”

She sighed, “I figured.”

He watched her in silence. The struggling noises she let out every now and then made him smile in amusement, and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t warmed up to her in the past month. They may have been off to a rough start, but honestly he couldn’t remember what all that had been about anymore. 

All he saw now was her. Not an uptight, bratty Clarke Griffin, but a Clarke Griffin that had been brave enough to apologise when he couldn’t, to be the adult in the situation when he behaved like nothing but as a child. She was the one who had made them start again. If it wasn’t for her, they would be still barking at each other’s faces. Or worse, he would be unemployed. 

So yeah, his perception about the girl had shifted just a little. He now noticed the way she bit her tongue in concentration when she thought about something, how she woke up extremely early each morning yet she always managed to run late. He learned that she liked having her hair curly rather than straight, that her go-to outfit was white jeans and a black turtleneck because it made her look professional. 

He wanted to hate himself for giving in. All his life he had grown up loathing those that were like her, and now look at him. Weak, pathetic, and willing to risk his own life for the girl in front of him not just because it said so in his contract. But because he genuinely would throw himself at anyone and anything if it meant keeping her safe. 

“I think we’ve run out of everything,” she let out a defeated sigh as she looked around the mess she had just made, “Wanna go to the shops?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, not like he had much of a choice anyway. If she wanted to go, he would follow, “Just let me jump quickly into the shower.”

“Yes, please,” she smirked, “You stink.”

“Do I?”, his smirk gave his plan away, and before Clarke could react, he had grabbed her by the waist, and had pulled her head into his armpit like he used to do to Octavia when she was a moody teenager. 

“Bellamy! Stop!”, she squealed, trying to push him away playfully. But he only gripped her tighter. 

“Uh-huh,” he teased, making her laugh. If anyone had told him a month ago that they would be there now, he wouldn’t have believed them. Him? Enjoying the company of such a girl? Never. 

“You’re disgusting,” she laughed, hitting his chest playfully, “Go take a damn shower.”

He pushed her head over the fabric of his sweaty t-shirt one last time before finally letting go. She made a face and went back to organising the mess she had created. As he watched her momentarily, it didn’t occur to him that perhaps he was done for. That perhaps there was no use in denying it now. 

Clarke Griffin was his friend. 

He couldn’t decide whether that was right or wrong. She was his client after all, and he couldn’t let his feelings get in the way of her safety. Although if he was willing to protect her then, he sure would take a bullet for her now. But it was different. 

One month ago, it was all about work. It wasn’t about keeping her safe because he couldn’t imagine not having her around anymore, not hearing that fluttering laugh that brightened his days so much. But now… 

Now he didn’t dare to think what this was all about. 

When he got out of the shower ten minutes later, she was already good to go. Clarke hated grocery shopping. It was in those moments when she almost wished she could feed on air just so she could stay within the comfort of her home, but then she would remember how much she liked a good comfort meal, and it would all go away. But still. Walmart was the closest thing they had to the apartment, and she wasn’t willing to spend another second in the car. The sooner they got it over with, the better. 

She had almost forgotten how much she hated that place. The shoppers were most odd, as if they saw pizza, ice-cream and staff as much the same — products, things to acquire and the means to acquire them. It was a disconnect of sorts, a brain-blip. They were always rude, too, messy as well. Seriously, how could an aisle be so damn unorganised? She swore it had been just as chaotic when they went there the previous week. 

“So,” Bellamy leaned casually into the cart as he pushed it down a random aisle, “What exactly are we looking for?”

Clarke took her phone out and scanned the list she had quickly made on her notes app. Sugar, flour, eggs, pasta, cheese, carrots. Bellamy nodded as she read it out loud and changed his route accordingly. 

There was something so domestic about grocery shopping together. If anyone were to look at them, they would probably think they were a happy couple and not some daughter of a politician and her bodyguard. And she was okay with it, really, because it meant that Bellamy blended well, and that nobody suspected a thing. 

But the mere thought of him being her boyfriend was...overwhelming. 

She hadn’t been with anyone since Lexa, and that was almost six months ago. Finn had continuously tried to get with her, but unluckily for him she had Raven for reference. She didn’t know if Bellamy had ever been with anyone, or if he was with anyone now. Which seemed unlikely, but. She truly had no idea, and she felt too self-conscious to ask. 

There was a fine line between being friends and being unprofessional, and Clarke never knew when she would be crossing it. Would asking him about his previous relationships be too unprofessional, or would that fall into the ‘friends’ category? She had too many questions, too many conversations she wanted to have with him. She wanted to get to know him. But could she?

“Earth to Clarke.”

“Huh,” she blinked. Grocery shopping. Right, “Sorry, what?”

“I was asking if you wanted brown or white sugar,” he smiled softly at her, making her stomach jump. 

“Um,” she couldn’t be getting nervous now. It was the simplest, most innocent question he had never asked her. Nothing to freak out about, “I think I’ll try brown.”

“Okay,” he left the cart and kneeled down to look for the sugar, “What are you making, anyways?”

“Carrot muffins,” she said, excitedly, “I’ve never tried them before. Have you?”

Bellamy swallowed, “Yeah,” where was the damn sugar?, “They’re Octavia’s favourites, actually.”

“She has good taste, then,” she smiled. He always got this faint blush on top of his cheeks when he talked about his sister, almost as if he was embarrassed yet eager to share snippets of his personal life with her. It was cute, she thought. 

He hummed in response, “I can’t find the brown sugar.”

She frowned, “I think it may be on the previous aisle with all the healthy stuff,” she thought out loud, “I’ll go get it.”

Bellamy nodded, and stood back up. He needed to get a grip. There was no reason to freak out whenever he mentioned his sister — Clarke knew about Octavia since day one, and it wasn’t as if she was some criminal. She was a perfectly normal 21-year-old he hadn’t seen in over a month. Of course he missed her, of course he would want to talk about her every now and then. And he knew Clarke wanted to listen, too. 

He was so immersed in his own thoughts that he almost didn’t hear it. A loud voice. Anger. And it was close, so close that…

_ Clarke _ . 

He left the cart behind and sprinted towards the aisle she said she would be in, hoping it was just a false alarm. 

“How about you tell your mother to go fuck herself!”

It couldn’t have taken him longer than two seconds. A blonde, young-ish looking guy was yelling at Clarke as she shrieked as close as she could to the stacked shelves, the shock evident in her face. 

He picked him up easily by the collar of his t-shirt, the seams coming undone with his strength, “I would shut up if I were you,” he growled into his face with a voice so deep he could tell the guy was intimidated. 

“Fuck off,” he tried and struggled to release himself from his grip, but he had no such luck. Bellamy pushed him back until he was against a wall. The guy yelled over his shoulder, “Fuck you, too! You’re a little fucking slut, that’s what—”

Bellamy’s fist collided with his cheek, making him fall down to the ground. He hadn’t intended to hit him, but he wasn’t going to let another word fall out of his damn mouth. The guy looked up at him in rage, and in a quick movement he kicked Bellamy’s leg, momentarily making him tumble. 

“Bellamy!”, he heard Clarke’s voice behind him, but he didn’t turn around. 

“Stay back!,” he commanded, right before picking him up by the collar again, “You have three seconds to leave this place or you won’t see another fucking day.”

“Or what?”, he half-laughed, but his expression gave away that he was in pain, “You’re going to hit me for that little slut? She sucks you good or something? I bet she does. Such a fucking slut, just like the scumbag of her moth—”

Bellamy’s clenched fist collided with the guy’s jaw again and this time, he knocked him out. He was out cold on the tiled floor beneath him, and only when the threat was eliminated did he feel the piercing pain on his leg, and the soreness of his hand. 

“Bellamy,” he felt a pair of small hands wrap around his arms, but he was out of it, “Bellamy, are you okay?”

When he recognised her voice, he immediately turned around, “Are you okay?”, his hands travelled to her face first, scanning every inch of her skin. He barely noticed the commotion behind him, as the security and the staff of the store helped the guy up. 

“I’m fine, Bellamy,” her concerned eyes travelled to his now bruised hand, “You need to get this checked out.”

“I’m alright,” he insisted. 

“No,” she pleaded, “Let me take care of you for once, Bellamy.”

Her words pierced into his heart until it hurt more than his hand ever could. She wanted to...take care of him. 

“Sir,” a masculine voice said behind him. The security guard, “We need to speak to you for a second.”

Bellamy nodded, “Okay,” he briefly locked eyes with Clarke before retreating a few metres away from the commotion. 

She was okay. She was safe. That was all that mattered. 

* * *

“I didn’t know you could drive.”

“I’m not  _ excellent _ at it, but you don’t have much of a choice. Do you?”

Clarke sat attentive behind the wheel, the nervousness obvious in her every move. As much as he insisted that he was fine, she didn’t believe him. Which, fair enough, but she really needed to be paying more attention to the road and less to his hand. 

“We could’ve called an Uber,” he pointed out, making her scoff. 

“I’m not paying for something I can do myself.”

He almost laughed. She was pretty damn rich — she could pay for every unnecessary commodity and still not run out of money. But the fact that she wouldn’t spoke volumes about her, he thought. She knew the value of money, and she knew better than to throw it around. Not many people like her did that. 

“How’s your hand?”

“Good.”

“Leg?”

“Sore. But good.”

The security guard at the grocery store happened to have worked for Pike in the past, and he was aware of the bodyguard network he had going on all around the state. All he needed to do was prove his identity, and he was free of charges. When Abby Griffin said she had pulled some strings before hiring him, she hadn’t been messing around. 

He caught Clarke rolling her eyes, “I can  _ hear _ your lies, but whatever.”

The hospital came into view a few moments later, and Bellamy had never felt more relieved. He appreciated Clarke being concerned about him, but it should be the other way around. He should be the one making sure she was safe and sound. 

When they got to the reception area, Clarke specifically asked for some Jackson, which was weird. But then she explained that he was one of her mother’s closest friends, and that he would probably see him right away. She wasn’t wrong. 

“Do you want to come in, Clarke?,” Jackson asked her as he instructed Bellamy to go into the room. 

“It’s fine,” she said, visibly still nervous, “Go ahead. I should probably call my Mom.”

Jackson gave her a sympathetic nod, and closed the door softly behind him. Clarke’s hands shook slightly as she reached for her phone. The shock still hadn’t worn off, and now Bellamy was hurt and…

_ Relax, Clarke. Breathe in. Out.  _

Bellamy was fine, even if a bit sore. He was fine. He had literally trained for this — this was his job, the reason why he was with her in the first place. To protect her. And a random scrawny guy wouldn’t be the end of him. 

So she dialed her mother’s number still with a trembling hand, and waited. 

“Clarke!”, Abby Griffin’s excited voice from the other line would’ve been contagious some other time, “How are you, dear?”

“Mom,” her whole body started shaking, and she knew she needed to get a grip, but she couldn’t, “Bellamy got hurt, Mom.”

“Bellamy?”, she could almost hear her frown. 

“Mr. Blake,” Clarke had almost forgotten that was how she was supposed to be calling him, how her mother was probably expecting her to call him. 

“What happened, Clarke?”, she sounded concerned now. 

She braced herself, hoping she was strong enough not to break down in that empty hospital corridor, “We were shopping and some guy...yelled at me. Bel—Mr Blake took care of it, but then the guy hit him and we are at the hospital. Jackson is checking on him.”

Silence. Then, “Is he badly injured?”

She shook her head, then remembered she couldn’t see her, “He says it’s just a sore hand. He was hit on the leg, too. But he could walk.”

“Alright,” silence again, “And the other guy?”

Clarke frowned. Why did it matter? But she answered anyways, “Mr. Blake knocked him out, and I think he was arrested after that.”

“Good,” the woman said, and she almost sounded proud. Then, her voice tensed again, “How are you feeling, sweetheart? Did he do anything to you?”

“N-No,” she stuttered, “He said some things, but I’m still too shocked to even remember. I’m okay.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Abby hesitated, “Why don’t you come over this weekend, get your mind distracted from all of this? I’m hosting a small get-together with some of my colleagues.”

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, it will do you good,” she insisted, “There will be young men your age, too. Perhaps you could…”

There it was. She stopped listening. There was the reason why her mother wanted her to come in the first place, so she could set her up with some uptight son of an equally uptight politician and call it a day. She was pretty sure she was mentally preparing her wedding, too. 

“I don’t know, Mom,” she said again, “I’m not really in the mood to meet anyone.”

Abby rarely took a no for an answer, but the current distraught state of her daughter softened her ever so slightly, “Alright,” she gave him, “No meeting anyone. But please, come over anyway. Marcus and I haven’t seen you in so long.”

Clarke was pretty sure her mother would still try to set her up, but she gave in, “Alright,” she sighed, “I’ll tell Mr. Blake later.”

“Thank you, honey,” she said more lively now, “And please, wish Mr. Blake a speedy recovery from our part.”

“Will do.”

Their conversation didn’t last very long after that, but Bellamy’s check-up did. An hour must have passed until Jackson finally opened the door, telling her that she could go inside. 

She found Bellamy casually sitting on a chair in front of Jackson’s small desk, a smug smile on his lips. She looked at him skeptically, “Are you okay?”

“I told you I was fine,” he rubbed her leg in a comforting way before he realised what he was doing, and pulled away. He cleared his throat. 

“It seems that Bellamy is perfectly fine,” Jackson informed Clarke with his signature doctor smile, “No broken or sprained bones. Just a bit sore, but he will live,” he joked. 

“Ain’t that unfortunate,” Bellamy teased her. She rolled her eyes. 

“Thank you, Jackson,” she sent him an apologetic look, “It all happened so fast. I still can’t believe—”

“Are you okay, Princess?”, Bellamy’s worried voice interrupted her, and she momentarily panicked. 

He had just called her ‘Princess’ in front of Jackson. Who, being one of her mother’s closest friends and confidants, of course knew about the relationship they shared. Would he tell her? Would he tell her that her daughter’s bodyguard referred to her as ‘Princess’?

“I’m okay,” she stiffened in her seat, “Just a bit shaken up still.”

“That’s normal,” Jackson said, looking right at Bellamy, “The shock will wear off. Just make sure you both take the rest of the week easy.” 

Bellamy decided that she wasn’t in the best conditions to drive back to their apartment, and that his hand didn’t hurt that much anymore, so he sat behind the wheel. Clarke didn’t say a word as they made their way back. What if Bellamy hadn’t been there? Would that guy… would he have laid a hand on her? She shivered at the thought, tried to push it away. 

This was the first time she truly understood her mother’s obsessive idea of getting her a bodyguard. She had thought she would never get recognised, and yet…

“Clarke,” his deep voice woke her up from her thoughts. She looked around to see that they were already parked in front of their apartment building, “Are you okay?”

She nodded in response, unable to find her voice. She knew she would be alright, but not right now. Right now she wanted to climb into bed, hide under the covers, and forget this nightmare of a day had ever happened. 

“Call me if you need anything, okay?”, Bellamy’s soft tone called from the other side of the hallway, right as she opened her bedroom’s door. 

She nodded again, and walked in without looking back at him. 

A couple of hours later, when the darkness of the night had settled in and no sounds could be heard, Clarke shook her head mutely. She had been there ten minutes tops, or this was some kind of dream. She breathed. It wasn't real, how could it be?

The aisles looked infinite around her, seemed to extend to eternity. And she was looking for something, but she didn’t know what. All she knew was that she couldn’t find it, no matter how hard she looked. Not here, not there…

“You!”

A voice called behind her, but all she saw was a blur. Then, hands. Hands on her hips, on her throat, choking her. This wasn’t real. She was having a nightmare. 

“You little slut.”

An ominous boom startled Clarke out of her abysmal nightmare. Her cheeks were wet and her body was bathed in a cold sweat. The sheets were twisted around her limbs, probably because she had been thrashing in her sleep. Her heart pounded against her chest. Clarke trembled. The room was entirely dark, no light anywhere. The remnants of her nightmare still clung to her mind, haunting her. 

Even her breaths trembled. She swallowed and once again turned to see the endless darkness of her room. She couldn’t see anything. All she felt was panic. 

She screamed. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I know this chapter was supposed to go online tomorrow, but I couldn’t help myself (you’ll know why 😬)
> 
> Friendly reminder that I now have a Twitter account, and that we’re already having a great time over there fantasising about parents!bellarke, so come join us 😋 My username is @PLISAwrites
> 
> Happy reading! 💙

“Clarke!”

She felt lost at first. Where was she? Who was calling her name? But then her bedroom door opened, letting the dim light in, and soon enough a strong pair of hands were holding her in place. She instantly knew who it belonged to, but for some reason it didn’t feel real. 

“Clarke. Princess.”

That voice. That distant voice. She could recognise it anywhere. 

“B-Bellamy?”

He sounded out of breath, almost desperate, “It’s me, love. I’m here. You’re okay.”

Panic started rising inside her chest, and she threw herself at him. She looked for anything to cling to, trying to calm herself down, but she found nothing but skin. And then hit her. Bellamy was shirtless. 

He didn’t hesitate as he wrapped his strong arms around the small frame of her body, engulfing her into a healing hug. He hid his face on her neck, breathing her scent in. He should’ve known better than to buy her excuses. It was obvious that she wasn’t okay, and he hadn’t been observant enough. 

She needed protection, and not just in a physical way, not just from outside threats. 

“You’re okay,” he repeated the soothing words as he rubbed her back slowly, hoping it would ease her growing anxiety, “Was it a nightmare?”

He felt her nod against his shoulder, “Alright,” hugging her tighter, she let out a content sigh against his skin that made him shiver, “Want to talk about it?”

Clarke pulled back just slightly, enough to give herself so more room to breathe. Her face was as passive as it would be in slumber. Bellamy moved closer and placed a careful hand on her knee, touching her covered skin just lightly. Even though she was already awake, she opened her eyes as if waking up from a deep sleep. 

His eyes were steady like an anchor bringing her back to Earth, face aglow with the faint light coming from his room. His lips bore the semblance of a warm smile, just enough to show her that she was welcome to talk, and that he is willing to listen. Clarke shifted in the bed, moving closer to him and the warmth his body irradiated. And she stayed quiet, allowing herself to stay lost in the moment just for a while longer.

“It was about today,” she swallowed, “I was alone with that man and he… He…”

“You don’t have to keep going,” Bellamy squeezed her knee, “You're safe here.”

_ With you.  _

_ I’m safe with you.  _

She nodded, silently telling him that she wasn’t going to keep pushing it. 

“Are you feeling alright?”

Bellamy’s eyes widened. Was she seriously asking  _ him _ how he was? She was unbelievable sometimes. 

“Clarke, I’m honestly fine,” he insisted, “It’s my literal job to take care of you.”

“I know, but…,” she shook her head, “You could’ve gotten seriously hurt, Bellamy.”

She looked up, locking her worried eyes with his dark orbs. His eyes were so different in moments like these, she thought, softer than she knew eyes could be. The professional man was gone, and instead he showed the eyes of one who cared deeply. If it were anyone else, she would have dropped her gaze, but with him she was drawn in closer, always wanting more. 

“I’d rather break all of my bones than let someone lay a finger on you.”

Her breathing hitched at his words, eyes everywhere but on him. She was very aware of his large hand still on her knee, burning her skin there. It felt weirdly comforting. There was something about him that she knew she would never find in another man, whatever it was, and in that moment it felt like there was a bridge between them. A connection she had never felt before.

“But you’re just as important as I am,” she spoke softly, “You know that, right?”

Bellamy almost chuckled, “It’s always your life over mine, Princess.”

She shot her head up, eyes locking again. He had to be joking, “Don’t say that,” her tone had changed completely, the vulnerability now replaced with fury. 

“It’s true,” he shrugged, and her eyes absentmindedly caught the way the exposed muscles on his shoulders flexed at the movement. 

She took a second to look at him, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He was huge in every way, and it went beyond her understanding how someone who looked so young could even have a body like that. Such bodies belonged to Greek gods, she thought. 

“How old are you?”, she frowned, not really thinking her words through. 

The surprised expression on his face told her that he hadn’t been expecting the sudden shift in the conversation, “I’m twenty seven.”

So, he was six years older than she was. It made sense, how she had never met any man like him. Her friends were roughly her age, and they were nowhere near the ‘man’ mark. And the other men she knew, Marcus, Thelonious… They weren’t like Bellamy. They weren’t a fucking magnet that was pulling her in so dangerously close. 

She cleared her throat, “T-Thank you for coming here,” she told him truthfully, “I’m feeling better now.”

“Are you sure?”, and he was back at his concerned self. 

Clarke couldn’t help but smile softly up at him, “Yeah,” she unconsciously placed her small hand over his large one, squeezing him there, “You can go back to bed.”

“I can stay here if you want me to.”

His heart immediately jumped when he realised what he had said. 

“I mean,” he quickly corrected himself, “I can bring my mattress here and sleep on the floor.”

That earned a soft laugh from her. God, how much he had missed that beautiful sound, “Don’t worry, Bellamy. Get a good night’s sleep.”

Bellamy hesitated, but he knew he had to go back to his bedroom. As much as he wanted to get under the covers with her, hug her close and push all her bad dreams away, he knew she would never want him to. He didn’t understand where this protective strike came from, either. He should be protecting her from physical stuff, not harmless dreams. And yet he wanted nothing else than to keep her close and chase her fears away. 

And it scared him. 

* * *

“I’m so happy you could make it, sweetheart.”

Bellamy felt overwhelmed just by walking into that immense ballroom. Polis Central was one of the fanciest hotels in the state, and it really shouldn’t have taken him by surprise that Abby Griffin had chosen such a place for this get-together. It was the kind of ballroom that called for Cinderella, and he couldn’t help but smirk as he glanced at Clarke’s coincidental blonde hair and blue blouse. 

They walked past the enormous room and headed towards the restaurant, where he quickly spotted Marcus already at a table, waiting for them. Under normal circumstances, he would have retreated to his room, or simply would have stayed back while she had lunch with her parents. But Abby Griffin had insisted that he joined them at the table, and whether it was because she felt sorry for him for the supermarket incident or because she really wanted him to be there, he wasn’t going to say no to such a fancy meal. 

“How are you two adjusting?”, Marcus’ smile was wide as he was served red wine. The waiter then went to pour some into Bellamy’s glass, but he politely declined, “Come on, Mr. Blake. It’s delicious. Just one glass.”

Well. He couldn’t really say no to his boss, could he?

Clarke cleared her throat besides him, and shifted in her seat, “It’s easier than we expected,” she looked at her mother, “I told Wells and Raven about B—Mr. Blake. I hope that’s okay.”

Calling Bellamy ‘Mr. Blake’ was weird now. But it was a kind of weird that tingled inside her, and that made her cheeks flush. She was so unused to it. 

“Wells is a good man,” the woman approved, “And Raven is a brilliant woman. I trust your judgment.”

Her daughter nodded, and stole a brief look at Bellamy before glancing back down at her lap. 

“So,” Marcus leaned in over the table, a sudden aura of awkwardness hovering over the table, “How are you feeling after...the incident?”

Bellamy tensed in his seat. He didn’t want to remember any second of it. The ‘incident’ hadn’t been horrible at all — if anything, it had been one of the easiest situations he ever had to handle during his career. A stupid kid who didn’t even know how to fight wouldn’t be the end of him. But the fact that it involved Clarke made him panic. If he hadn’t been there…

He mentally shook his head. 

She was there, safe, with him. She was okay. 

“It was a bit startling,” he heard Clarke say, remembering her nightmare that night, “I’m okay now, though.”

“My hand feels good, too,” he told them, just to throw something into the conversation. 

Abby Griffin gave him an approving nod, “I’m happy to hear that,” she told him, “And I’m also happy to see that we made the right choice with you, Mr. Blake. Right, Marcus?”

Bellamy couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of pride at her words. Yeah. They couldn’t have made a better choice. If he wasn’t capable of protecting Clarke, nobody else was. 

“Absolutely,” the man agreed next to her, “You’re doing a great job so far.”

“Thank you,” he nodded. 

“Well,” Clarke cut in with an apologetic smile, “What’s for lunch?”

Clarke could barely sit still during lunch. Bellamy’s presence was making her head spin, and the fact that he was sitting there, making polite yet genuine conversation with her family almost made her mistake the whole thing for something else. 

She couldn’t help but notice that they always fell into a kind of domesticity that wouldn’t probably be expected — their relationship was strictly professional after all. Or at least it was supposed to be. She wasn’t even sure anymore. 

Well, what exactly was her mother expecting when she sent a young, tall, attractive, deep-voiced god to live with her? She wasn’t made of stone, damn. But she knew Bellamy wouldn’t dare to make a move. Not that she wanted him to. No. Of course not. Absolutely not. But in the hypothetical situation that he had the chance, he wouldn’t do it. Hell, he had even hesitated to let her call him by his first name. 

Whatever. She wasn’t getting her hopes up, and she wasn’t planning to. 

And yet her plans to remain calm and collected about it all went out the window the second he knocked on her door that night. 

“Ready?”, his smile was wide as she opened the door, and  _ shit _ . 

_ Shit shit shit shit.  _

Bellamy was wearing a dark tuxedo, a white shirt and a dark tie that wouldn’t have looked like anything special on anybody else, but on him… God, on him. 

It then hit her that it was just his usual bodyguard uniform, but he hadn’t had a chance to wear it because, well. He sure would’ve turned some heads at campus if he had walked around like that. 

“Cat got your tongue?”, he teased. 

“Shut up,” she snapped out of it quickly, closing the door softly behind her. Her cocktail black dress hugged every inch of her skin, and for a second she felt self-conscious standing besides him. 

“You look good,” he said, almost as if he had read her mind. 

She was glad she was wearing makeup that would hide her blush, “You look pretty decent, too,” she smirked, “Trying to impress anyone tonight?”

“Depends,” she started walking towards the elevator, and he was quick to catch up and stand next to her, “Am I impressing you?”

Her breath hitched, her heart started racing until she was pretty sure it was going to tear her skin apart and run away. But she didn’t let it show. 

She smirked, “Are you flirting with me, Mr. Blake? Aren’t you supposed to be working?” 

The elevator door opened in front of them. She swore she saw him bite his lower lip in amusement. 

“I can multitask.”

His hand on her lower back as she walked into the small space was burning her skin through the thin fabric of her dress. He had to be doing this on purpose. When the doors closed in front of them, his hand didn’t move. 

“So,” she licked her glossy lips, “What exactly are your plans for tonight?”

“Other than keeping both of my eyes on you at every second? Not much,” he smirked. 

Five floors. They were still five floors away from the ballroom. 

“You’ll have plenty of fun, then,” she was aware that she was teasing him, and she wasn’t stupid  — h e was teasing her, too. She didn’t know what kind of ridiculous game they were playing, but she liked the danger of it. She hadn’t felt this alive in a very long time. 

“I always have fun when my eyes are you, Princess.”

She unconsciously pressed her legs together.  _ Damn _ . He was good. 

“How many girls have you used that line on, huh?”

Three floors. 

“Actually, none.”

Two floors. 

“And you think it’ll work on me?”

One. 

“I believe it’s already working.”

_ Ding _ . 

“Well,” she hurried to get out of the elevator, his hand detangling from her back. Her brain got dizzy at the loss of contact, “Don’t get your hopes up, Mr. Blake,” she smirked. 

Bellamy followed her out of the elevator, scanning their surroundings but keeping an eye on her. He relaxed. Such parties never were too exciting for a bodyguard — which ultimately was a good thing. The less work he had, the safer she would be. He could only hope she wanted to spend the evening with him. 

His heart was a mess. He had never meant to flirt with her, not really, but when she flirted back, he lost his mind completely. Every reason why all of it was wrong came flooding in as he walked into the already crowded ballroom, which looked like it had been directly taken out from a fairytale. People were already gathered into small groups, chatting lively, and for a second he allowed himself to pretend he was one of them. To pretend he wasn’t there with Clarke just as her bodyguard, but as something else. 

What that something else was, he didn’t want to think about it. 

But he knew he would be by her side at all times, a hand on her back like always to silently tell her that he was there. She would hold his hand, maybe, and he wouldn’t know how to act. Was he out of his mind? What the hell was wrong with his brain? 

It took him a while to warm up to the idea that Clarke, in fact, wasn’t going to spend every second of the night with him. The moment Abby spotted her, she kidnapped her and led her into crowded groups and forced conversations. It was obvious that she didn’t want to be there talking to all those people, but she also knew better than to damage her mother’s image — so she obliged. 

“Mom,” Clarke almost whined after nearly half an hour of pointless conversations, but tried to keep her face neutral, “Can I just go back with Mr. Blake for a second?”

Abby frowned, “I was about to introduce you to John Mbege, Clarke.”

She wanted to scream. Her mother had promised her not to introduce her to anyone that night, and yet she had already met three young boys she had no real interest in. She should’ve seen this coming. 

Honestly, she just wanted to go back to Bellamy. He had stayed back all night, keeping an eye on her from a distance, and it was driving her insane not being able to joke around with him, hide away together so she wouldn’t have to meet anyone, and just…  _ be _ with him. 

She didn’t know when exactly her heart went from wanting to run away from him to needing to be by his side, but she wasn’t complaining. Surprisingly, Bellamy had turned out to be quite the nice and amusing company, and everyday she felt more at ease with the idea that he was, if anything, a good friend. 

“Alright,” her mother’s colleagues seemed not to be able to take their eyes away from them, for some reason, and she knew better than to contradict her mother in public. 

So, much to her despair, she followed her mother towards this John Mbege person. 

Bellamy was furious. Well, perhaps furious would be an overstatement, but he was angry. 

He knew this was bound to happen, and yet he wasn’t ready in the slightest. He hadn’t been with Clarke all night, and while that wasn’t necessarily an issue, it happened because she had been meeting boys all evening. A warm smile here, polite conversation there… he was done. 

He knew better than to feel this way, but he couldn’t help it. Abby was pushing her into it — he was aware. But that didn’t make things any easier. So he watched from afar as Clarke threw her head back in laughter at something a new guy was telling her, and slowly he came to the realisation that he’d had enough. 

Enough of not being with her when she looked so painfully breathtaking. 

Bellamy didn’t think things through. Before he knew it, he found himself discretely strolling across the room, right in Clarke’s direction. He felt stupid for doing this, so very ridiculous, but making a fool of himself sounded much better than not being with her at all. 

Clarke had her back turned to him, and when he placed a hand on the small of her back, perhaps intentionally a bit too low, she jumped in surprise, “Jeez!”

“Sorry, Ms. Griffin,” he tried to keep his expression neutral, but he could tell she knew something was up when he called her that, “May I talk to you for a second?”

She blinked, “Of course,” after having said her barely-felt apologies to the guy, she followed him outside, where he could finally breathe. 

The garden of the hotel was stunning, even in the darkness of the night. Bonsai trees lined the perfect lawn in their wooden boxes. In the centre there was a pond as large as a small lake with flowering lily pads and a wooden bridge that crossed the middle so one could look down at the koi carp. The stone path in front of them was punctuated with weeds after every stone.

But nothing could compare to the beauty standing by his side. 

“What’s wrong?”, her deep, concerned eyes were piercing into his guilty ones. 

Around them, few people strolled down the gardens, but those who did were too far away to hear their conversation. He cleared his throat, “You looked like you could take a break.”

Which perhaps wasn’t the most appropriate thing he could say, given that she had been laughing and apparently enjoying herself not even five minutes ago, but oh well. 

“Actually, yeah,” Clarke looked at the stunning surroundings around her, relieved, then back at him, “Thanks for escorting me out.”

“No problem,” he swallowed, “Want to go for a walk?”

She nodded, and in an act of braveness, took his hand on hers. Her heart stopped at her own action, but she didn’t let it show. They walked through the stone path and towards the small lake a few metres away from them. Her surroundings were breathtaking, but she couldn’t concentrate on anything else other than his hand on hers. 

Bellamy’s touch was warm, familiar, firm, soft, and all the good things in the world. They had never been so physically close like that, touching so openly, and she doubted it would even be allowed. But she didn’t care. All she cared about was his thumb caressing her skin painfully slowly, as if he was trying to ease her nerves. It wasn’t working. 

Bellamy, on the other hand, was going insane. Fingers locked with hers, he couldn’t think about anything else other than how unbelievably small her hand felt in his, and how ridiculously soft. There was something magnetic about her touch that made him want more. He wanted her hands on his hair, his face, his body. He needed her to feel him so badly his mind was going blank. She was a damn drug, and he wanted to get wasted. 

“Bell?”

His heart skipped a beat at the nickname, “Yes, Princess?”

Clarke stopped walking, but her hand never left his. If anything, he swore her grip had gotten stronger. 

“We are friends, right?”

He swallowed, “Of course we are. Why do you ask?”

He could almost hear the gears working inside her brain. She chewed on her bottom lip, fear evident in her beautiful face, and he almost cupped it between his hands and pressed his mouth to hers. Almost. 

“Do you think it is...appropriate?”

The truth would be… He didn’t really know what the truth would be. Would it be common? No. But would it be inappropriate? He wasn’t sure. 

They spent all day every day with each other, they went to class together, grocery shopping, watched movies together, they lived together. Surely Abby Griffin would’ve had to see it coming. A friendship, at least. Something else not even he hadn’t seen coming himself. 

“I don’t think us being friends is against the rules, no.”

Relief was visible in her face as he said the words, “Good,” she gave him a weak smile, “Because you’re a good friend, Bellamy.”

His features softened at the sight of her, “You’re not too bad yourself, either.”

Clarke chuckled and smacked him playfully in the arm. He squeezed her hand in response, suddenly making both of them very aware that they were still, in fact, holding each other. And he didn’t think that would be very appropriate. 

But she was a light in the darkness, guiding him towards the edge. Her touch felt as if the stars were dancing across his skin, and he had never felt anything so dangerously good. He didn’t know what to call it, whatever was happening between them, but he liked it. It left him feeling silly, and fragile, and everything he always thought he would hate. And perhaps he would be jeopardising his whole career, but  _ shit _ . 

Trouble had never looked so goddamn fine. 

For a second, she considered just throwing it all out of the window. He was there, holding her hand, keeping her safe, making her doubt every principle she’d always stood for, and now what? Her mind knew she couldn’t have him, but that didn’t stop her from dreaming of all the ways she could. 

She wanted to know what it would be like to be loved by him. All-consuming, probably. It would leave her floating in a cloud of bliss, forever happy, and forever safe. Because if anything, Bellamy made her feel safe, and she had never felt that with anyone else. Certainly not with someone who looked so big and intimidating. 

She had two choices. She could do this very, incredibly stupid thing, or she could keep pretending her heart didn’t burn with the fires of hell every time his eyes were on her. 

Deep down, she knew she had already made her choice. But this time, she didn’t have to. 

At first she thought she was imagining him getting closer to her space, but the scent of his cologne got even more intense and she realised that he was leaning in. Her breathing stopped, her heart raced, and he was so close she couldn’t feel her legs anymore. She couldn’t feel her fingers in the cold night air because all she felt was him, everywhere, filling her universe. She closed her eyes in anticipation, unable to do anything else than beg for it. Beg for what she had so long desired. 

“Please.”

His breath shaking, his nose touched hers with the softness of a feather, “Don’t hate me for this.”

And he kissed her. 

His lips were softer than anything she’d ever felt before, sweet, delicate, tempting. Their lips suddenly formed a bridge for every emotion to flood into, and they were drowning. Bellamy didn’t know where to put his hands, where they wouldn’t feel invasive, so he settled for her hips. Clarke’s back arched involuntarily at his touch, leaning into his body even closer. 

Nothing else mattered. Her heart sank with the realisation that she wanted him so desperately, no matter who he was. No matter who he worked for, what the consequences were. Because in that moment she knew she had never felt so happy, so full, so safe, and his arms were the place she wanted to stay in forever. 

She hoped he would want to hold her for eternity, too. 

They pulled away, fingers still lingering on each other’s skin and breathing still stuttered. Their eyes remained closed, because reality could wait a couple more seconds before it came crashing in again. 

Nothing could ever compare to that first kiss. 

His voice was hoarse, almost broken when he finally spoke, “Clarke—”

“Don’t,” she shot her eyes open, shattering the moment around them, “Don’t you dare tell me you’re sorry. You’re not, and neither am I.”

Bellamy swallowed, watching her carefully like a deer caught in headlights, “You know this can end very badly.”

“The damage is done,” she half-whispered into the cold air. Because it was. Once their lips had touched, something had shifted and there was no going back. This was them now. 

Bodyguard and client. Friends and roommates. Lovers. 

“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” Clarke decided out loud. Bellamy nodded besides her, not entirely convinced.

His body came out of its numb state at her words, the cold finally settling in inside his bones. They would talk about it in the morning. They would talk about it, and they would make the right decision. They would be responsible about this. 

They would. 

As he walked her back into the ballroom and settled on a far away corner, watching her and forcing himself to go back to bodyguard-mode, he knew he was done for. 

He would never, ever, be able to forget how her lips had felt on his. 

And  _ fuck _ , he wanted to feel them all over again. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So 😔 I had to cut this story a chapter short because it made no sense to divide chapter 7 and 8 (they’d be too short and uneventful).
> 
> BUT more stories are coming very soon, so stay tuned! Remember to follow my new Twitter @PLISAwrites and...
> 
> Happy and filthy reading 👀

The drive back to Arkadia the following morning felt different. 

She expected him to be open to conversation, to seek some clarity about the situation they now found themselves in. But none of that happened. 

Bellamy got into the car silently, his face features reflecting his usual professionalism. She thought it may have just been a facade, since her mother had insisted on walking them to the car, but nothing further from reality. Once they hit the road, he still didn’t say a thing. And for some reason, she sensed that her words weren’t welcomed either. 

It had been just a kiss. A small touch of lips. It hadn’t been heated or anything, so perhaps he was just trying to forget it had even happened at all. She thought she should probably be doing that, too. 

If her mother found out, he would be done for. She would send word to Pike, and he would be forced to drop his entire career, what he had sacrificed so much for. And only because of a stupid, meaningless kiss. 

She wasn’t going to say anything about it, though, and by the looks of it, it seemed that he was going to stay quiet as well. 

It felt as if his door was open, but she couldn’t walk through it. His touch was so close, yet so far away. An entire world of possibilities that had now vanished completely. She wanted to run towards him, yet stay away. She wanted to be strong and nonchalant about all of it, but she couldn’t be. She felt drawn in and that made her want to pull back. Her idea of a world without him was colder, but she could get accustomed to it. She wished he would just come to her, even if it was for the very last time.

Now that she knew what being with him felt like, one taste wasn’t enough. 

Bellamy’s grip tightened on the wheel. He was pushing his limits, trying to feel the soreness of his hand again so he could ignore the heaviness of his heart. The need to love her and stay away seemed to go hand in hand, but what happens when your mind is spiraling out of control? What then? What happens when you lose all senses? Coming to her, to be healed by her, knew would break him. For him to come to her was forbidden, yet to stay away meant pain. 

Their kiss echoed in his mind with the power to tear down walls he had built high and deep.

Perhaps he should quit. It would be the most responsible thing to do, right? One doesn’t go around kissing their clients and gets to keep their job. The only problem was that there was nobody, not a single soul on that planet, who he trusted to keep her safe. He wasn’t going to jeopardise her well being because of this, not when realistically nobody but them knew about their...incident. He knew she wasn’t going to say anything, and he sure as hell wasn't planning on opening his mouth, either. 

It was still early in the morning when they reached their apartment, and Bellamy desperately needed a distraction. Something, whatever. He couldn’t share a space with her now without wanting to talk about it, and doing so would make him want to taste her lips again. And that was absolutely not a possibility. 

“I’m going downstairs to the gym,” he told her as soon as she opened the front door. Clarke looked back at him, but he couldn’t hold her gaze, “Call me if you need anything.” 

“Bell—”

“I’ll come back in a bit.”

And he was gone. 

Alright. He probably just needed some time alone to sort out his emotions. No need to freak out over this. 

Only that she was indeed losing her mind, and she couldn’t keep herself together any longer. 

She picked up her phone quickly, and hoped that the person on the other line would help her calm the chaos that had unchained within her. 

“You better be dying, Griffin,” Raven’s groggy and pissed off voice was unmistakable, and Clarke could tell she had just woken her up. 

“I might after this,” she was aware that perhaps she was being a tad too dramatic, but nothing inside her head made sense anymore. 

Raven groaned, and pushed herself back up on the bed until she was sitting down. She rubbed her eyes with her free hand, “What did you do?”

Clarke swallowed. She knew Raven wouldn’t judge her for this, but she still wasn’t ready to hear about how much she had messed up, and how badly all of this was going to go. As much as she wanted her happy ending, she didn’t think she would get it this time, and it was tearing her heart apart. 

“We kissed.”

Raven sighed loudly into her ear, “It’s too early for mysteries, babe. Who the hell did you kiss and why are you all freaked out about it? This better not be Finn.”

“It’s not him,” she said quickly. Finn? God, no. She would never drop her standards so low, “It’s...worse.”

Her words seemed to wake the girl up completely, “Define worse.”

Clarke braced herself, “As in, bodyguard-worse.”

Nothing but silence came from the other line, and for a second she actually thought Raven had hung up on her. 

“You’re kidding.”   
  


“I wish I was,” her heart had never beaten so fast, and she feared it might combust. She glanced nervously at the front door, almost as if she was expecting Bellamy to burst into the room unannounced. 

“Fucking hell, Clarke,” Raven let out a long sigh, “When did this happen?”

“Last night,” she felt her hand shaking, “I don’t know what to do, Raven. He seems to be ignoring me right now, but… I don’t even know what I want myself.”

She felt like a mess, completely and utterly broken. What if she had ruined everything for a brief moment of comfort? Would Bellamy… Would he leave her? 

“Okay,” Raven’s voice sounded so firm it immediately pulled her back into a sober state, “This is what you’re going to do, alright? You’re gonna go get him, talk about this like adults, and you’re gonna ask him what he wants.”

“What he wants?”

She hummed, “His job or you. I don’t really think he can keep both.”

Her heart sank to her feet, “W-Why do you say that?”

“Look, Clarke. I hate to be the bad guy here, and I hate to break it to you,” she let out another deep, long sigh, “But I don’t think him being your boyfriend  _ and  _ you bodyguard is going to work out. There’s an obvious conflict of interest there that Abby absolutely won’t approve of.”

Right. Her mother. God, she would freak out so much if she ever found out. The man she had trusted the most to keep her daughter safe, had now betrayed her reliance in ways she could’ve never imagined. 

“Okay,” her voice was barely a whisper, “I feel incredibly stupid right now.”

“Don’t,” her friend said quickly, “It was kind of obvious from the start that there was some kind of tension between you two, to be honest. But I never expected you to actually act on it.”

She arched a questioning eyebrow, “Tension.”

“The amount of times I’ve caught you undressing him with your eyes is unbelievable,” she half-chuckled. 

Raven had never lied to her, not even once. So perhaps… could it be that she had been attracted to him before she even realised it? Had she really been that obvious?

“Well, in my defence—”

_ Ring, ring, ring. _

Her gaze quickly shifted towards the closed front door. Who the hell was ringing her doorbell at 10 am in the morning, on a Sunday? It couldn’t be Bellamy — he never forgot his keys. 

“Someone’s at the door. I’ll call you later.”

She hung up before Raven could respond, and walked towards the door. 

_ Ring, ring, ring. _

Clarke stopped right on her tracks. Perhaps she shouldn’t open it without Bellamy at home — he would for sure be angry if he found out. But he was gone, and she didn’t think a mass murderer would even bother to knock at her door if they wanted to kill her. 

In an act of braveness, her hand wrapped around the doorknob, and she pushed it open. 

“Where’s Bellamy?”

A tall girl, long brown hair, who didn’t look much older than she was, stood with her arms crossed in front of her. Her forehead was frowned, and for some reason she looked pissed off. The shape of her nose and her lips looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. 

“Um, who’s asking?”

If this was some angry ex-girlfriend… She involuntarily tightened her grip on the doorknob. 

“Octavia,”  _ oh _ , “His sister.”

Feeling a little ashamed of her overreaction, Clarke sensed the tension leaving her shoulders, “He’s at the gym right now,” she told the girl, who now looked more impatient than before. She hesitated, “Y-You can wait for him inside.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Octavia didn’t say another word as she stormed inside the apartment, almost as if she had been there a million times. As if she owned the place. From their very brief interaction, Clarke couldn’t understand how such a stormy girl could be so closely related to the calmness that was Bellamy. 

“Do you know how much longer he’ll be out for?”, Octavia's eyes were everywhere but on her, scanning her surroundings quickly, almost as if she were mentally making an escape plan. 

Clarke wrapped her arms around herself, “He left like, fifteen minutes ago. I guess it’ll take him twenty more,” she almost felt bad as she said the words, “I can call him if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. I wanted to talk to you, too.”

Her face went blank, her pulse weak, and she swore she could feel her heartbeat in her own throat, almost as if she was about to spit her heart out. Octavia wanted to talk to her. Right. 

“Okay.”

The girl was looking at her now. Her eyes were piercing and dark, very much like Bellamy’s. But she didn’t feel that same comfort under her gaze, oh no. She felt like a prey about to be devoured. 

“So,” the sound of her steps echoed in her ears until she was unable to focus on anything else. Her combat boots looked so heavy she could probably knock her out if she tried, “You’re the girl my brother is putting his life at risk for.”

She swallowed, “It’s his job.”

“Relax,” she snorted, “I get it. I just miss him and I’m worried about him, you know? Do you have any siblings, Clarke?”

She chose to ignore the way she already knew her name, “I don’t.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” she shrugged, “You’re missing out.”

As if she could do anything about it, she thought to herself. 

Clarke cleared her throat, hoping to release some tension with it, “I’m sure Bellamy is a great older brother.”

“Oh, he is,” the smile that drew on her lips was genuine, and for a second the act she seemed to be putting on in front of her came crashing down, “He basically raised me.”

She raised a confused eyebrow, “I didn’t know that.”

Octavia shrugged again as she plopped down on their sofa with a familiarity she could only envy. She seemed to have no issues making herself at home, and Clarke felt a strange comfort at that. 

“Our Mom passed away when he was eighteen.”

Her heart stopped. She didn’t know that. She had no idea. The way Bellamy held himself, the depth of the pools in his eyes… she could tell he had gone through a lot. But nothing could have ever prepared her for what Octavia had just told her so nonchalantly. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said, truthfully. She knew what it was like to lose a parent so young, “I didn’t know.”

“Our Dad wasn’t around much, either,” Octavia kept going, completely ignoring her, “Well, Dads, I guess. We are technically only half-siblings, but Bellamy doesn’t like that term.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that.”

Clarke truly didn’t know what else to say. Not that it mattered, anyways — Octavia seemed to be having a monologue with herself. 

“Yeah, me too,” she swallowed, “Anyway, Bellamy is a great brother. And I’m a great sister, that’s why I came to visit. I was hoping he would have at least one day off to see his family.”

Her stare was judgmental, accusing, and she felt the urge to yell at her that she wasn’t the one giving her brother any orders. Both of them were nothing but mere pawns on her mother’s and Marcus’ game, and she wanted more than anything to have a normal relationship with him. One in which he could go out to spend the day with his sister freely, perhaps with her too. 

“My mother is in charge of all that,” she told her, “But I’m sure he’ll be very happy to see you.”

The girl nodded, and stayed quiet for a bit after that. She took her phone out, checked it briefly, and then fidgeted with it nervously as she looked around the living room. Clarke thought that perhaps she should be offering her something to drink, at least, but it felt as if she would bite her if she spoke. So she said nothing. 

Damn, when the hell was Bellamy coming back home?

“So, Clarke,” her voice looked forced, almost as if she didn’t really want to talk to her, “Why exactly do you need a bodyguard?”

Well. She could tell her  _ that _ , “My mother isn’t a very popular Senator,” Octavia arched an eyebrow at her words, probably curious to know more. But she wasn’t in the mood to dive any deeper, “She’s gotten some threats and all that, so she thought I should have a bodyguard too. Just in case.”

“Just in case, huh? Are you actually in any danger?”

Then it hit her. Bellamy hadn’t told her about the grocery shopping incident, about his visit to the hospital. She wondered if she should really be the one breaking the news to her dangerous-looking sister. Probably not. 

“Better safe than sound,” she gave her a weak smile, “So, um, what do you do?”

She could only hope the younger Blake hadn’t sensed her urge to change topics. If she had, she didn’t mention it, “I work at a gym back in Polis.”

“That’s cool,” she was grateful for all those times she’d had to fake courtesy with her mother’s colleagues. It was coming in handy now, “Do you train with adults, or kids?”

“A bit of both,” she smirked, “But I love teaching little kids how to kick ass. They’ll need those skills sooner or later.”

She nodded, not really focusing on her words. There seemed to be a pattern with the Blake siblings, she noticed: discipline, fight, protect. She felt a strange wave of comfort washing over her. 

Clarke was about to keep going with the awkward small talk when the front door suddenly opened behind them. Bellamy entered the apartment looking completely sweated out, and shirtless, headphones on. The image of him wasn’t helping her situation at all, but then she remembered his sister was quite literally sitting in their living room. 

“Bell!”, Octavia shot up from the couch the second she saw her brother, and for a second Bellamy looked pale, as if he had just seen a ghost. 

“O?”

She rolled her eyes playfully, “Don’t look so overwhelmingly excited to see me, please.”

In a second, she wrapped her arms around his neck, not really caring about the sweat. Bellamy reacted quickly, hugging her strongly and lifting her up slightly from the ground.

“I’ve missed you, big brother.”

He kissed her forehead, “I’ve missed you too. I didn’t know you were coming today, though.”

She shrugged, “It was kind of a last minute decision. Lincoln is helping Nyko with a broken sink or something like that.”

Bellamy arched an amused eyebrow at his sister, “Glad to see your brother is your first choice.”

Octavia smacked his arm playfully, and Clarke felt like a total outsider just by watching them. It was clear that it was a private moment, even if lighthearted, and she was just standing there awkwardly, looking at them. When she didn’t even know what ground Bellamy and her stood on. 

She cleared her voice loudly, hoping to get noticed. When Bellamy’s eyes laid on her, she swore her cheeks were red, “I’m staying at home all day,” she told him, fighting not to show how nervous she really felt, “You can go have brunch, or something.”

He gave her a skeptical look, “Are you sure?”

She didn’t hesitate, “Absolutely.”

The longer he spent away, the more time she would have to think about what the hell her life had now turned into. Not having him around as a distraction would indeed be helpful. Octavia looked between them as if she knew something they didn’t, but Clarke was too tired to decipher it. She gave her a small wave and a tired smile before walking down the hallway, and into the safety of her bedroom. 

“It was nice meeting you, Octavia.”

She smiled back sincerely, “You, too.”

* * *

When he came back, it was already dark outside. 

She kept her promise and didn’t leave the apartment while he was out. She didn’t even leave her room, for that matter. Their kiss kept replaying in her head until it clouded her mind completely, and she was unable to think about anything else. 

Perhaps it had been a mistake after all. Perhaps it was something worth feeling sorry for. But if it really was, why didn’t she feel guilty at all about it? 

“Hey,” the softness of his voice drew her in instantly. 

She looked back from her laptop. He was leaning in casually on her bedroom doorframe, and by the looks of it he was alone. His mere presence had bursted her safety bubble, a contrast to how he usually made her feel. 

“Hey,” she closed her laptop slowly, carefully, but remained seated on her bed. 

“Can I sit with you?”

She nodded, and made room for him next to her. Their apartment had never been so quiet. There were no sounds outside, either, nothing to distract her from the man in front of her. 

Clarke noticed that he had cleaned up nicely. He was wearing a knitted jumper she had never seen on him before, and his hair looked messy yet somehow neat. He was wearing glasses, too, which he had never worn in front of her, and for some reason her heart started racing because of it. He had never looked so handsome. 

_ Focus _ . 

“Do you want to talk about it?”, his voice was low and deep, pulling her in like a magnet. She suddenly felt sleepy, and she unconsciously leaned into him. 

“I think we should,” she said. 

Bellamy looked at her carefully. He had missed her today. Being away from her now felt strange, foreign, and he didn’t like it one bit. What he was feeling was both dangerous and scary, but he feared there was no going back now. 

“I don’t regret kissing you,” he said, truthfully. And he wasn’t going to pretend to. 

She swallowed, “Me neither.”

He knew better than to get his hopes up. Of all the people in the world, he had to fall for the forbidden one. He had to give his heart to the one he couldn’t have. And it wasn’t fair. 

“Where does that lead us?”, he asked, perhaps more to himself than to her. 

But she didn’t know. She was lost in the darkness, unable to find her place. So she shook her head, as that was the only thing she could do, and fought back the tears that had been threatening to spill all evening. 

“What do you want, Clarke?”

_ You.  _

_ I want you.  _

_ I want all of you, forever.  _

“I don’t know.”

“I do.”

She looked up at him, her eyes silently asking him what he meant. Her heart was racing so fast she thought it would stop abruptly. 

Suddenly, his hesitant hand travelled to the side of her face, stroking her pale cheek so softly she barely felt it. She leaned in into his touch, desperate for his warmth. Looking right into his dark eyes, she understood. They wanted the same thing — but they were also holding back for the same reasons. 

“You’re beautiful.”

He smiled softly down at her, and she felt her cheeks getting hot. His touch was sending tingles down her spine. Without even thinking twice, she moved her head slightly to the side until her lips touched the skin on his hand, kissing him there delicately. Her lips lingered until he replaced his hand with his own. 

Bellamy put his hands on both sides of her face, pulling her close, and the world fell apart around them. He had never gotten lost in a kiss before. The space between them exploded, his heart missing beats and his hands struggling to bring her even closer. He tasted her and he realised he had been starving. He had kissed other people before, but it had never burnt like this. 

Maybe it lasted a minute, maybe it lasted an hour. All he knew was that kiss, and how unbelievably good her lips felt against his, how soft her skin felt under his touch. 

He had been waiting for her his whole life, and she was the light finally leading him home. 

“I want you, Princess,” he breathed out against her lips. Her eyes were closed, mouth waiting to feel his own again, “I want you.”

“I want you too, Bell,” she sighed, brushing her lips against his desperately, “I don’t want to think about anything tonight. I just want…”

“Tell me what you want,” he opened his eyes to look at her, to see the fire in her eyes, “And I’ll give it to you.”

She knew he would. She also knew there was no possible coming back from this — but perhaps she would want to stay there. 

“I want all of you,” she whispered into his touch, “Tonight I just want to pretend that you’re not my bodyguard, that I’m not your client, that we’re normal adults that want each other without any consequences.”

Bellamy nodded softly. That was what he wanted, too. A night to forget. Just one night. 

“Come here, sweetheart.” 

His hands settled on her hips, slowly pulling her weight backwards on the bed, and Clarke could only stare at him. He took off his glasses and placed them on her night table, and before he was done, her hands had absentmindedly travelled to the hem of his sweater, pulling it up slightly. 

Bellamy’s heartbeat accelerated, “Are you sure?”

Clarke simply nodded, and continued to pull it upwards and above his head. He was shirtless above her, and he had never looked so beautiful. Bellamy watched in awe as her small fingers touched the skin of his stomach with a softness that was driving him insane, and he didn’t know how someone so small could make him feel so much. 

“You’ve got some freckles here, too,” she half-whispered, and he looked down at her fingers. 

“I had never noticed,” he said, truthfully. She was getting to know his body better than he ever could. 

Clarke hummed in response, and continued to caress his skin until he felt her hand on the buckle of his belt, silently asking for permission. He nodded, his head spinning in all possible directions as she undid his jeans, and pulled them down his legs. 

She had never seen him like that. She had occasionally seen him shirtless, like that same morning, but never without his pants. She tried not to look at the bulge inside his underwear, but it was difficult not to when he was pressing it against her leg. 

“Your turn,” he smirked, but his tone was still soft, making her heart jump. 

With one hand, he pushed the fabric of her t-shirt slowly above her head, until she was wearing nothing but her black bra. He wasn’t discrete, he didn’t hold back — his eyes were piercing on her chest with such intensity she thought it might burn through her skin. 

“Like what you see?”, she teased him, feeling more relaxed by the second. 

“Bet I do,” he teased back, but reminded himself to go slowly. This was Clarke. This was his Princess. 

But she had other ideas. In a swift movement, she pushed herself up slightly enough to reach behind her back, and unclamping her bra. However, she didn’t take it off. She removed the straps from her arms, but the thin fabric remained in place around her breasts, and Bellamy bit his lip unconsciously. She was teasing. 

Clarke smirked up at him, “I thought you were going to take care of me, Mr. Blake.”

His cock twitched at her words, and he couldn’t help the small groan that escaped the back of his throat. If he wasn’t misreading the situation, and he hoped he wasn’t, she wanted it rough. His Princess wanted to be manhandled, and he sure as hell was down for it. 

Slowly, he finally pushed her bra aside until her full breasts were on display, and  _ holy shit _ . They were bigger than he had imagined, round, nipples so pointy and so pink he wanted nothing else than to pinch them with his fingers, give her the pleasure she was so badly looking for.

“You want me to take care of you, baby girl?”

Her knees weakened at the nickname, and she nodded frantically. She involuntarily rubbed her legs together to get the friction she so desperately needed, but then he grabbed one of them, pulling them apart. 

“Shh, be a good girl,” he whispered, “Keep them open for Daddy, will you?”

His heart stopped the second the words left his mouth.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck _ . What if Clarke thought it was some weird shit and she was totally not into it? What if he had just ruined everything? He hadn’t meant to bring up his stupid Daddy kink the first time they were going to sleep together. 

But then he looked down at her just as she bit on her lower lip, a small smile creeping up her lips, “Yes, Daddy. I promise I’ll be good.”

Well, fuck it. 

His mouth collided with her right nipple without warning, sucking on it desperately as she let out the most delicious noises he had ever heard. He took care of the other one with his free hand, nibbling it between his fingers and pulling at it slightly. Clarke’s hand travelled to the back of his head, pulling at his messy hair and pushing his head back down, deeper into her nipple. Then he switched sides, making her hips buckle involuntarily against his erection. 

It felt big. It felt so overwhelmingly big Clarke wanted nothing else than to feel him inside already. She had slept with some women, but never with a man before, and she was pretty sure the multiple dildos she had used in the past had nothing on Bellamy’s cock. She was burning for him. 

“Daddy,” she whimpered, making him grip on her breast tighter, “I need you inside of me, Daddy.”

Bellamy groaned. He couldn’t believe she was real. He quickly sat back on the bed, mourning at the loss of her warmth, and pulled down her leggings until she was in nothing but her underwear, just like him. And even then, he thought there were still too many layers on them. Too many barriers separating their burning skins. 

His cock twitched inside his underwear again, and he couldn’t help but give it a stroke through the thin fabric. Clarke’s eyes were glued on his hand until he felt the coldness of her fingers pushing at the hem of his underwear, slowly pushing it down. He let her, and watched as her eyes widened when his full, erect cock came into view. He would’ve given everything to shove it inside her pretty mouth. 

Bellamy pushed himself back on top of her, lifting his weight carefully until his cock was lined with her still covered entrance. He pushed him inside of her above her underwear, just to give her a taste, and  _ shit _ . He was so thick she lost all senses. 

“Bellamy,” she whined, buckling her hips up in desperation. 

He smirked, “Impatient Princess,” he pushed his cock a little bit further until the very tip was practically inside of her, “Do you want Daddy’s cock inside of you, sweetheart?”

She nodded quickly, “Please, Daddy. I want to feel how big you are.”

“Mm,” his hand pumped his cock up and down against her crotch, where the wetness was already visible, “I bet you’re so small and tight for me, baby girl. My cock is going to stretch you so wide.”

Clarke whined at his words. She wanted nothing more than for him to tear her apart, destroy her insides, leave her so sore she couldn’t walk the following morning. 

“I need you to fuck me, Daddy.”

Bellamy didn’t need to be told twice. Unable to hold himself together any longer, he pushed her soaked underwear aside and took a second to marvel at her precious, so very delicious cunt before he couldn’t wait another minute, and pushed the tip inside of her. 

She was wet, but so fucking tight it was already pushing him over the edge. Her walls contracted around the tip of his cock as he pushed himself in carefully, and he could tell it was already too much for her. Clarke shut her eyes, hands holding onto his strong arms for support. She winced as he pushed himself deeper, and he immediately felt bad. The last thing he wanted was to cause her any pain. He was supposed to protect her, to take care of her — he would hate himself if he hurt her in any way. 

He stopped, “Are you alright, love?”

Clarke nodded, but didn’t open her eyes, “Yeah. You’re just very big. K-Keep going.”

He gave her a skeptic look, but obliged anyways. His cock buried deeper into her unbelievably tight cunt as her walls contacted around him, taking all his length in like the good girl she was. When the tip finally reached the very back of her cunt, she let out a frustrated sigh. 

“Jeez, Bell,” she half-chuckled, “Fucking hell.”

He sent her an apologetic smile, “You’ve done well, Princess,” he pushed himself downwards to kiss her temple softly, “I’m going to move now, okay?”

She nodded expectantly. She was eager to know what it would be like to be fucked by Bellamy, by her  _ bodyguard _ , and the sensation was so overwhelming she almost passed out. When he moved inside of her, pushing in and out slowly at first, she swore she saw heaven. The pain she had felt was quickly replaced by pure and raw bliss, and she didn’t think this could ever be just a one-time thing. 

Bellamy’s hand travelled to her ass, lifting her up slightly until she wrapped her legs around her torso. That angle enabled him to go deeper, and Clarke was a mess of screams and whimpers after that. He fucked her senseless when it was clear that she could take him, and he fed on the beautiful sounds that left her mouth, on the incredible way she was taking him in. 

He rocked his hips against her in deep and deliberate movements, his cock sliding in and out easily, her cunt stretching around him. She was everything he had ever dreamed of. 

“Daddy,” she moaned, clinging onto his arms for dear life, “D-Daddy, I’m going to come.”

He groaned, and buried his cock even deeper inside of her, “Come for me, baby girl. I want to feel your sweet cum on my cock.”

Clarke groaned at her words, not even needing to use her hand for release. Bellamy was overwhelmingly more than enough. He knew she was close when her walls closed around him, and she let out a high-pitched moan at the sensation, “Daddy!”

“That’s it, sweet thing. Come for me. That’s it. Such a good girl for Daddy.”

She couldn’t take it anymore. Digging her nails in the skin of his arms, her mouth opened and she almost couldn’t believe her words, but she wasn’t going to take them back. 

“Come inside of me, Bell.”

He lost his mind. The image of his cum dripping out her cunt, marking her in such a primal way, became too much to handle. But he had to be responsible. He wasn’t wearing a condom, which wasn’t very responsible of him to start with, and he couldn’t risk getting her pregnant, even if the mere possibility of doing it was driving him wild. He had to be sick. 

“I-I can’t,” he groaned, slowing down his pace to avoid coming instantly. The image of spilling inside of her was the only thing in his mind, and it was clouding his judgement. 

But Clarke wasn’t making things easy, “Please, Daddy,” she begged, rolling her hips against his, “I want to feel your cum inside of me.”

He shut his eyes, trying to concentrate on what they should really be doing, “Clarke, I can't, I… I could get you pregnant.”

Bellamy’s slow pace was driving her insane, and she wasn’t thinking straight. That could be the only reasonable explanation for her next words. 

“Wouldn’t you like that, Daddy? Don’t you want to get me pregnant with your baby?”

_ Fuck.  _

_ Fuck no.  _

“C-Clarke,” his arms started shaking, and he knew it was too late now. 

“Come inside of me, Bell. I want you to get me pregnant.”

_ Fuck.  _

_ …fuck.  _

His soul left his body before he could react, and it took him an instant to realise what was going on. Only when Clarke became a mess of moans and whimpers did he realise that he had come inside of her, and that she was coming down her orgasm too. 

He looked down at where they were connected, and saw his cum dripping down her thighs.  _ Shit _ . 

“Wow, okay,” he pushed out of her slowly, trying not to freak out, “That was… that was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, Clarke. Holy shit.”

Her cheeks were flushed, and there was no trace of the Clarke of ten seconds ago. She was back to being his adorable, shy Princess. 

“I can say the same,” she smiled softly, “I-I’m sorry for that. It goes without saying that I’ll take the pill.”

He nodded slowly, “Yeah.”

At least they were now back to their responsible selves. When Clarke came back from the bathroom, he was in his underwear, sitting down on the bed with an expression she couldn’t really read. Her hand absentmindedly tangled in his hair as she sat down next to him, and played with his curls softly. 

“So I guess this is over,” he whispered, not daring to look at her. 

She swallowed, “I guess.”

Her hand on his hair was a silent reminder of what he would never feel again, of what they would never have. But this was what they had agreed to. Just a one-time thing, one night to forget who they were, to forget all the reasons why being together was forbidden. 

But he knew he could never forget her. 

It wasn’t about how she felt around him, not about how badly he wanted her, but how about how alive she made him feel. There was something about her that he couldn’t explain, but whatever it was it made him love her in ways he couldn’t even describe. 

Bellamy was scared of losing her, and she wasn’t even his. 

He turned his body in her direction, and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. His Princess. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

His beautiful Princess, and he had just broken her heart. Again. 

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand, this is it! I can’t believe this is the very last chapter of this story 😔 I know it was supposed to come out tomorrow, but I couldn’t wait any longer 😅 Writing bodyguard!Bellamy has been both new and exciting for me, and I hope you enjoyed all of it!
> 
> I will be back very soon. In the meantime, follow me on Twitter (@PLISAwrites) to stay updated on my next stories 👀
> 
> Happiest reading! 💙

Clarke’s alarm didn’t go off the following morning.

Half an hour before the start of her first class of the day, Bellamy knocked softly on her door, waking her up in the middle of a dream she immediately forgot. Sweat clinged to her forehead, her covers all over the bed from twisting in her sleep, and when she glanced at the clock, she panicked. 

It wasn’t the first time she had slept in more than she should have, but today was different. It meant that she would have to go through four hours of boring lectures without a chance to speak to him about the previous night. And the more she had to wait, the faster her heart pounded inside her chest, and the more it burned. 

Bellamy struggled to keep his mind on the job. He knew campus wasn’t necessarily a dangerous place, but neither was the supermarket, and he still had nightmares from that day. The thought of losing her was unbearable, now more than ever. And he feared it would never go away. How could it? 

Before her, he always considered alternative lovers. Not that he was unfaithful, but he knew that the end of a relationship wouldn’t be the end of him. There would always be a plan B. And now, for the first time in his life, there were no other plans at all. Losing Clarke felt like knocking all the air out from his lungs, like drowning and not being able to swim back up. 

It was almost as if he had stopped trying, as if his soul had stopped searching. In a way, when he met her he was stunned, but not necessarily for the same reasons he was stunned now. That glimpse in her eyes he had caught at her mother’s office told him she would be a handful — and she had been, alright. Meeting her felt like fate, but being her friend was a choice. Kissing her had been a choice. Perhaps a need. 

But he chose her, and he would be willing to do it over and over again. He thought it was funny, how if he had made a different decision he wouldn’t be here now. If he hadn’t decided to join Octavia’s gym three years ago, if Pike hadn’t seen him there and offered to train with him, if he hadn’t accepted to be in his bodyguard network and had chosen to go to university instead, his fate would have been written in different ink. Because he knew that if he was here in a different universe without her by his side, he could never be complete. 

As Professor Cadogan went on and on about whatever subject he was supposed to be paying attention to, he evaluated his options. Octavia wouldn’t be happy if he quit his job, not when it paid so incredibly well. And not when there was nobody as qualified as him to do it — he had decided that on day one. Abby Griffin had trusted him with her daughter right away, but he didn’t think she would approve of their relationship even if he didn’t work for her anymore. 

He could always keep his job as her bodyguard, but he didn’t know for how long he could keep his hands off of her, and that was the problem. Because now that he’d had a taste, a beautiful and blissful taste of Clarke, he wanted to get drunk on her forever. 

But he couldn’t.

She tried taking notes during the lecture, but it proved to be impossible. To say she felt embarrassed would be an understatement. She had always been rather shy and quiet during sex, not really all that comfortable in her own skin, but being with him was different. Bellamy didn’t leave any room for doubt — he wanted her, and it fueled a fire inside her that she didn’t want to extinguish. 

The second he called himself the sinful word, her soul left her body. Clarke had never considered the Daddy kink, or any kinks in particular before, but  _ damn _ . Calling him that felt so right, and now she didn’t ever want to stop. What she felt embarrassed about, however, had little to do with that, and a lot to do with the fact that she had essentially commanded him to come inside of her. To get her pregnant. 

She wanted to crawl into a deep hole and never come back up. What the hell had that been all about? In her defense, she had never felt such passion, such fire with anyone else, and her brain never worked properly when his hands were on her. But shit. 

She wasn’t even sure she wanted kids at all — definitely not at her age, and the worst thing was that she couldn’t really tell if he had been freaked out by that, or if he just had ignored it completely. One thing was sure: she needed to take that damn morning-after pill as soon as possible. 

“Got any more classes today?”

His voice brought her back to the now almost empty classroom, and she wondered when exactly had Cadogan dismissed them. 

She shoved her laptop inside her bag quickly, “Um, no,” avoiding his gaze, she cleared her throat as she stood up, “I need to go get something.”

“Alright.”

As they walked towards his car, she realised that she actually had to tell him where she wanted to go. Not that the pill thing was any secret at all, but for some reason she felt self-conscious about it.

“I have to, um,” she tried to sound nonchalant as she climbed into the car, “I have to get the morning-after pill.”

Bellamy’s heart stopped momentarily, and he hoped she hadn’t noticed how his hands tensed on the wheel, “Yeah. Sure.”

A heavy silence settled over them, thicker than it had ever been. Unsettled eyes glanced unceremoniously around and tried to avoid catching each other’s glances. Bellamy played some soft music in the background, hoping to ease the atmosphere, but it wasn’t doing much. Calrke shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and grasped her sweaty, nervous hands over her lap. 

When the local pharmacy came into view, she counted the seconds until she could hop off the car, desperate for some fresh air. There still was a conversation hovering heavily over their heads, but it seemed that both of them were actively trying to ignore it. 

She kept her head down as she bought the damn pill, scared someone might recognise her. She knew there was nothing to be ashamed of — those things happened sometimes. Well, perhaps not  _ those  _ things. It had certainly not been an accident, but nobody needed to know that. 

The lady at the desk gave her an unimpressed look as the words left her mouth, not really buying her the-condom-broke story, but oh well. She wouldn’t have to see her face ever again. Once she finally got it, she sprinted towards the car, impatient to go home and get it all over with. 

“So you take it and...that’s it?”, Bellamy looked incredulously at the small pill on the kitchen counter as Clarke poured herself a glass of water. 

“Yeah, well. Let’s pray that would be it.”

Bellamy knew what she meant all too well. Being a father was certainly not on his to-do list for the near future, and although he wouldn’t really mind—

_ No. _

_ What the hell am I thinking? _

It was definitely too soon. Abby would kill him with her bare hands, and for what? It wouldn’t be worth it. 

Clarke took the pill so quickly he almost missed it. He blinked and it was done. Their problem had been fixed just like that. One of them, at least. 

A cloud seemed to have settled over both of their heads, and it didn’t look like it would be going away soon. They both knew they had to talk about it, figure things out, and yet they remained quiet. Because what could they possibly say, when their heads and their hearts were nothing but a blur?

Clarke settled her now empty glass down, “I think we should…”

“Yeah.”

She walked towards the couch slowly, and he followed. Bellamy swallowed as he sat down next to her, the distance between them causing him a physical pain that he couldn’t believe was real. 

It would be so much easier, he thought, to act like none of that mattered. To pretend to be happy instead of confessing that his heart was nearly broken for losing someone who wasn’t even his. And she never would be. 

“What happened last night,” Clarke started, voice so quiet he struggled to make out the words, “Shouldn't happen again.”

He nodded slowly, “I know.”

She wanted to know what was running through his mind when he looked at her. She wondered if he truly wanted to stop this — but she didn’t even know what she wanted herself. She wondered how she would get over someone who had never been hers. She wondered who she would blame for her pain, when she had been the one breaking her own heart. 

“And you’re okay with it?”

“Aren’t you?”

Sometimes, when she looked at him and he looked back at her, she could see something. This very tiny hint of something more, something that he felt but couldn’t say. She was seeing it now. 

She gave him a half smile, “I asked you first.”

When their eyes met, she felt instantly connected. She knew nobody else caught her but him, and it was nice to feel that way. There were times when she wanted nothing more than to look into his beautiful, dark eyes, because it was when they looked at each other in silence that they said the most. 

“It doesn’t matter if I’m okay with it,” his tone was flat, his emotions unreadable, “Our relationship should be strictly professional, but it hasn’t been.”

Twice. It hadn’t been professional twice. Bellamy mentally shook his head. No — it hadn’t been professional more times than that, far too many. When they sang along in the car to some old song, when their hands brushed as they both pushed the cart down the supermarket aisles, when she gave him one of her signature looks every time she got bored in class. None of that had been professional at all, as innocent as it had seemed at the time.

Clarke swallowed, “So, what do you suggest we do?”

“I think we should go back to…,” he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He couldn’t, “Before.”

She arched a confused eyebrow, “Before,” it wasn’t a question, “Bodyguard and client.”

It physically hurt him to nod, and he felt his stomach fall to his feet, “I think it would be best.”

Clarke was speechless. She had seen it coming, in a way. But she thought that, when the awaited words finally left his mouth, they would feel right. She hoped to feel like they were making the right choice. And yet all she felt was...nothing. 

No sadness, no regret, no anger. Nothing. 

“Okay.”

She stood up from the couch under his nervous gaze, and headed towards her bedroom without looking back. He didn’t stop her, either. 

Deep down she knew they were doing the right thing. Bellamy would get to keep his job, she would be able to sort out her thoughts, and they would be fine. They would laugh about it in a few years, remembering how young and childish they had been. 

Or perhaps not. Perhaps he wouldn’t even remember her in a few years. Would she still be hurting over this, over what they could have been?

“Clarke.”

She shut her eyes, breathing in and out, as her hand tightened on the doorknob of her bedroom. 

“It’s okay,” she didn’t look back at him. She couldn’t. His guilty gaze felt too heavy on her. 

His voice echoed in her ears, “I know it’s not.”

The nothingness was quickly replaced by anger, pain, sadness, so intertwined it was getting hard to distinguish one from the other by the second. Her muscles tensed, and the inability to think clearly soon followed. Her hand tightened on the doorknob and she bit her tongue. 

Clarke tried to remind herself that anger was born of pain and sadness, that she needed to calm down, find herself, ignite her feelings of love and compassion in that moment of anger. But she failed. 

“And what do you want me to do about that, Bellamy?”, she raised her voice, suddenly turning her whole body towards him. 

He froze into place, not used to watching her boil in anger like that. He tried to remain calm amidst the chaos, but she spoke again, more passionately this time. 

“Tell me, Bellamy, what the hell am I supposed to do?”

He swallowed, “Let’s figure this out, Clarke.”

“There’s nothing to figure out!,” she half-shouted, startling him, “You’re my bodyguard, you work for me, we shouldn’t have done any of those things. I’d say it’s pretty damn figured out.”

“But you’re not okay with it.”

“You’re not, either!”

“So let’s figure this out.”

Clarke groaned, and threw her head back in desperation. She couldn’t believe this man. 

“You were the one who suggested we should go back to strictly professional,” her tone was accusing. She was seeing red. 

Bellamy felt on edge, as if trying to calm a wild beast. She was angry, and rightfully so, and he hated seeing her that way. It was his fault. He had to go and open his stupid mouth to say something he didn’t even feel. And for what?

“I did,” he took a step closer to her, “Because I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“Well,” she scoffed, “Try asking first.”

Seeing the hurt in her eyes broke him. The sight of her was tearing his heart apart, crushing it until it was nothing but dust. He deserved it. All of it. He should’ve never kissed her, should’ve never made a move. All that initial happiness was now gone, and he feared he had lost her for real. 

“I am asking now,” voice deep, he tried not to break down, “What do you want, Clarke?”

“No.”

_ No? _

“Tell me what  _ you _ want, Bellamy.”

His eyes drifted up to hers, and it was over. Every thought in his head exploded, and a dark curl of desire began twisting inside of him, bending all his rules. He tried one last time to pull away. 

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

Clarke licked her lips involuntarily, her heart suddenly stopping. She hadn’t been brave enough to admit it to herself, but when the words left his mouth, she realised that they might as well have left hers. Because there was nothing, there was absolutely nothing more she wanted more desperately than to feel him again, and always. 

“We shouldn’t.”

Bellamy’s eyes were fixed on hers. He nodded slowly. If she didn’t want to, he had nothing else to add. 

She spoke again. 

“But I want to.”

He thought he had imagined it at first. Clarke wasn’t at the end of the corridor anymore, but in front of him, and before he knew it her lips caught his in a hard kiss, pulling them apart from the force of it. Her tongue tangled with his in a heated kiss that made him lose his mind. That was it. There was no going back.

And  _ shit _ , it felt so right. 

The kiss was different from all their previous ones, and the sensation made her stomach tingle. There was nothing gentle about it. Bellamy was careful as he pushed her up against the nearest wall, hands roaming everywhere, and she wanted nothing else than to feel him again in every possible way. 

“Bed,” she said between kisses, and he was quick to bring their lips back together. 

A small groan escaped the back of his throat, a low, pleading noise that set her skin on fire. This was how it was supposed to be. 

Bellamy pushed the door of his bedroom open, guiding her inside while their lips were still attached. It occurred to her then that she had never been in his room. It was tidy, smelled good, and didn’t have a lot of things in it. But she didn’t have much more time to focus on the details when her back collided with his mattress. 

In that moment, nothing else mattered. They had made their choice, and for the lightness of their soul, it felt like the right one. 

“Bell,” his name sounded like heaven when she said it, and he realised then that he wanted to hear it for the rest of his life. 

“Yes, Princess?”

“I care about you,” she wanted to say something else, but her mind told her that it was too soon, even if deep down she knew it, “And I want to be with you.”

Bellamy smiled down at her, “I care about you, too,” heart beating fast, he caressed the warm skin of her cheek softly, “I’ll be with you forever, if you want me to.”

In that moment, she saw the stars. She saw the whole universe in his eyes, “I’d love you to.”

* * *

Bellamy didn’t think he could technically be the luckiest man in the world, as there were quite the amount of people on Earth, but damn. He felt like that. 

The first month of being Clarke’s boyfriend was probably the happiest he’d ever felt in a very long time. They still couldn’t display any kind of affection in public, but at home he would pepper her skin with kisses and shower her with love. Shower with her too, quite literally. The sex was pretty amazing as well. She didn’t shy away from anything, telling him that it was because he made her feel comfortable and confident in her own skin. His heart had never melted faster. 

The second month was a bit difficult. Abby insisted that they should pay them a visit, so he ended up kissing her a total of two times in three days. It was more painful than he would ever admit. In the eyes of her parents, they were still bodyguard and client and nothing else. Friends, perhaps, but that was it. No sneaky business. And he intended to keep it that way so he could keep his job. 

He didn’t think Marcus and Abby suspected a thing. Why would they? Bellamy called her Ms. Griffin, kept their interactions minimal and strictly professional, cold stares and no touching. No one would even bat an eyelid at them. And although perhaps Abby suspected they were probably a bit closer than they publicly showed, never in a million years would she have imagined the actual truth. 

In the third month, he told Octavia. He wasn’t proud of having waited that long, but for some reason the whole thing freaked him out more than it should. But she barely reacted. She didn’t make a fuss — which was a good thing, but she didn’t seem overly excited, either. 

“I knew there was some weird shit going on between you two,” she said, a hint of a smile in her voice, “But I’m happy for you, Bell. I hope she treats you well. You deserve it.” 

Clarke treated him well, alright. She would  _ attempt _ to cook for him almost every day, which always resulted in them ordering take out, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. She would massage his back when he had a rough day, she would let him play those “extremely boring and napping-worthy” History documentaries on TV, and she would indeed fall asleep minutes later. He liked it that way. A sleepy girlfriend cuddling into the safety of his arms while Nero set Rome into flames in the background? He couldn’t think of a better plan. 

But the fourth month came along, and so did something else. 

“My Mom is planning on renewing your contract next month.”

He gave her a side look as he stirred the creamy pasta sauce he was making for dinner, “Okay.”

Clarke looked carefully at him, almost as if she was waiting for him to add something else. When he didn’t, she spoke again, “Are you going to do it?”

He dipped a spoon in the sauce, blew at it carefully to cool it down and tasted it. It needed a bit more salt, “You think I shouldn’t?”

“You can’t answer my question with another question,” Clarke gave him a look, even though his back was turned.

“Well,” he stirred the sauce again, “I don’t think anyone can protect you any better than I can.”

“Cocky much,” she smirked. 

Bellamy half-laughed, “It’s true, though. But seriously, don’t you want me to be your bodyguard anymore?” 

“It’s not that,” Clarke chewed on her bottom lip as she walked over one of the kitchen stools, sitting there. She rested her head on her hands as she carefully chose her next words, “But I was hoping we could be a little more… official,” she swallowed, “If you want to.”

“Official,” he thought out loud, trying to figure out exactly what she meant by that. Then, it hit him all at once, “You want to tell your mother,” it wasn’t a question. 

Clarke nodded slowly, hoping he wouldn’t freak out about it. She had been toying with the idea for several days now, since the last time they talked on the phone. Abby had asked her if Bellamy — Mr. Blake — was doing a good job, and if she thought they should extend his contract. She’d said yes, of course, but now a new idea had been planted inside her head, and she couldn’t weed it out.

She didn’t want to hide their relationship anymore. What for? She had a feeling they would be together forever, and while that technically left them a lot of time to go public, she couldn’t wait any longer. All she wanted was a normal relationship in which they didn’t have to pretend. She wanted him to hold her hand while on dates, to kiss her before class, and to hug her when she aced a test. She wanted all of him all the time, everywhere. 

“She’s bound to find out eventually,” she swallowed, hoping her words made sense to him, “And I’d rather tell her myself than risk being caught.”

Bellamy agreed so far. Being caught by Abby Griffin sounded like the worst of his nightmares, “So what’s your plan, exactly?”, he turned off the stove and looked back at her, “I don’t think me telling your mother that I want to quit because I’m in love with her daughter will make things any easier.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, “Yeah, I know, but—”

_ Wait _ . 

Her heart stopped, her pulse accelerated. 

Had she…? Had she heard right?

Bellamy arched a confused eyebrow at her sudden interruption, “What is it?”

“W-What did you just say?”, she struggled to keep her voice from breaking.

His confusion only got worse as he sensed how nervous she suddenly looked, “What do you mean, Clarke? I just said that I don’t think telling your mother that I’m—,” his heart jumped, “ _ Oh _ .”

His mind hadn’t really meant to say the words, but perhaps his heart had. He wasn’t ashamed — the love he felt for her was overwhelming and undeniable, and he was planning on telling her at the right time. But as he looked into her perplexed eyes, he understood that there wasn’t a right time at all. 

He had been in love with Clarke for months, perhaps even from the very start, and it was about damn time she knew. 

“Well,” he took a step forward, and he was already in front of her, “I meant it.”

His voice dove into the depths of her heart, healing the parts she didn’t even realise were broken until then. And that’s how she knew. The best love is unexpected. The best love is born out of fate, it’s an instant connection. She despised him at first, learnt to appreciate him after, and now… 

Loving Bellamy had felt like a collision of stars that slammed into her hard, knocking all her walls down. She had never expected it to be him. Not the rude, uptight bodyguard who didn’t even like her at first. There were too many people in the world to be him. But it was him. It was all him. And now she felt strong enough to say it with her whole chest. 

“I mean it too,” she smiled, holding his hand in hers, “I’m in love with you, Bell.”

They didn’t need to say anything else. In that moment, the world stopped and it was just their two souls, intertwined in a moment that didn’t feel real. He closed the small gap between them, galaxies exploding inside their chests. Every kiss with him felt like the first one, only that now she was proud to call him truly and wholly hers. 

Pulling away, Bellamy carefully placed a strand of loose blonde hair behind her ear, “I love you, Princess. Always.”

“I love you too, Bell. Always.”

He smiled softly down at her, “Let's tell the world.”

“Yeah,” she squeezed his hand, all the worries suddenly dissipating until all that remained was the familiarity of his love, “Let’s.”


End file.
